Swallows & Stars
by Hikorichan
Summary: Hermione and Severus find themselves lost and struggling after the war, but in very different ways. Can the memories of a dead man bring Hermione clarity? Can the voice of a girl lead Severus to a decision? Or together can they hope for something more?
1. Chapter 1: An Unwanted Choice

A/N: This story is written in full, so no worries about it being dropped. I will be uploading new chapters multiple times per week, so please check back often. This is rated MA for later chapters; consider yourself warned. Normal disclaimers apply. Now, without further ado, here we go. I hope you enjoy!

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><p><strong>Swallows and Stars<strong>

**Chapter 1: An Unwanted Choice**

Severus Snape hadn't expected to end up here.

He remembered the searing pain as Nagini's venom pulsed through his veins like fiendfyre, his body sagging against the walls of the Shrieking Shack, feeling the end coming over him. The last thing he saw was the eyes of his love, Lily's eyes, in the face of her boy. That was when the darkness took him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in blinding whiteness. As his pupils adjusted, he realized he was standing in a classroom not unlike his own at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—except it was white, bright white, with three towering windows on one side.

Severus appeared in the middle of the room, naked. As he looked down over his thin body, he was shocked to realize that his scars were missing. He looked hopefully at his left forearm: the dark mark that had haunted him for so long was gone.

Not wishing to wander about without any clothes, he found a set of black robes on the teacher's desk and put them on. Feeling more comfortable, he allowed himself to study the room. Behind the desk, recessed into a corner, was a dark mahogany door; another door stood at the other end of the room at the top of a set of spiralled white marble stairs. While the classroom appeared set up for potions, with cauldrons on each of the desks, there seemed to be no tools, no books. There were shelves behind the desk, but no bottles of ingredients. Other than the furniture and the cauldrons, the room was bare.

He was peering out the intricately patterned windows, which overlooked a lawn some three stories below, when he heard her voice behind him.

"Hello, Sev."

It had been over 20 years since he had heard that sweet voice. Turning around, he saw Lily standing by the desks, her green eyes smiling at him, looking young, carefree and happy. She wore a simple white dress, with short sleeves and a high neck. She was as beautiful as he remembered.

_Lily. Oh, Lily._

He stood in shock, taking her in greedily as she she smiled and walked over to his side. Severus swallowed, his saliva congealing in his throat and making him unable to form words. Lily seemed immune to Severus's open-eyed stare, the fact that his heart was simultaneously swelling and breaking in his chest at the sight of her. She peered out the window, her long marigold-coloured locks falling forward from her shoulder, and Severus noticed her dress had tiny flowers embroidered into the fabric.

Was this a dream? Was she here to lead him on?

"Lovely view," she said as if they saw each other every day, and she was commenting on the weather.

"Lily?" Severus finally choked out. He yearned to reach for her, to brush her pale arm that was glowing in the bright light of the room, but he stilled his hand. She was not his to touch. She was never his.

Severus scowled, his eyes fixated on the curving iron bars that made the image of a snake between the clear panes of glass. "Is this…?"

"The afterlife?" she said, finishing his question. "No, I'm afraid not. You've come to Limbo." She pointed out the window, and Severus followed the direction of her finger, noticing that the lawn receded into a fog after only a few hundred yards.

_Limbo?_ _But, surely I should have passed over__… __Does that mean__… __Am I not dead? How can that be?_

"Regrets, Severus," said Lily, as if answering his final question. She turned to face him with a soft smile. "I think, after all you did, you deserve a choice."

_But that makes no sense._

"I deserve a choice? After all I did?" he bit out, his voice harsh and incredulous as it echoed in the mostly vacant room. Memories of his life, decades of spying, of watching people die flitted through his mind like a giant cloud of ravens, and he quickly pushed them away before he could become overwhelmed by it all. He was left with only the memory of Lily's death, which fluttered down a let out a hoarse call that rattled his heart as much as his head.

"Lily, it's all my fault," he choked as his fingers seized window sill, his knuckles white.

"No, Sev," said Lily calmly but firmly.

Severus rocked forward, barely hearing her refusal, his hair hiding his face in shadow. "I did so many terrible things, said so many terrible things…"

"And I was a terrible friend," said Lily.

"No, Lily," said Severus quickly, and raised his head to look at her, pain evident in the creased lines of his face. "No, never think that. You were my best friend. Always my best friend."

"You know that's not true," said Lily with a sad look in her eyes. "You were a wonderful friend, but I wasn't. Friends—best friends—don't give up on each other over a silly word said in a terrifying situation; they don't care what house they are in; or who their other friends are. But before I realized that it was too late. I thought you were gone. I'm sorry I never sought you out. I should have known you could never be truly one of them."

"But I _was_, Lily," said Severus, a wave of regret washing over him as he remembered all of things he had done as a Death Eater. All the deaths and tortures he had witnessed and done nothing about. In the end he felt his soul was tarnished with a darkness he could never scrub clean, no matter how many years he was a double-agent for Dumbledore. He may have been acting for the light, but his actions were dark all the same.

"Sev, you would not be here if your soul was broken or dark," said Lily, as if reading his mind again. "Please give yourself a chance. You deserve a better life."

"I deserve nothing! Death should have taken me!" His voice rose sharply in a yell as anger surged within him like a terrifying wave, but Lily didn't flinch.

"That's up to you," she said, still smiling peacefully.

Snape's mind roared, unwilling to believe her words. _No. No, it__'__s not possible_.

But then, here was the woman he loved, had loved since he was a boy, telling him it was possible, though it made no sense to him at all.

He looked at his hazy reflection in the window and saw a grim reaper: raven hair, ebony robes and cold dark eyes in a skeletal face. Though he had tried desperately to stop it, his life had only ever served one purpose: to send those he meant to protect to their graves.

_Lily… Albus… Harry… _

Another storm of regret smashed into him, swirling like a typhoon in his chest. He turned his head to the side so he wouldn't have to see Lily's smiling green eyes. _If she only knew__… _

"I deserve nothing," he whispered.

"Listen to me, Sev," said Lily firmly, tilting his face towards her with her fingers. "You paid for your mistakes. Please give yourself a chance. You can have a real life. You can have something better." Then she stepped forward, reached up on her tiptoes, and kissed him on the cheek.

"You were forgiven long ago, my friend," she said, smiling, and then melted into a white mist.

"You have a choice," her voice echoed in the room, but she did not return.

Severus stood for some time as the feeling of her lips faded from his cheek.

His mind eventually rattled into a single thought: _I have a choice to live or to die_.

It still seemed impossible, but there it was.

He looked at the two doors at opposite ends of the classroom. The one set back in the corner must lead to the afterlife; It was darker, more mysterious, somehow. He looked closer, and noticed the frame was etched with runes. The one up the stairs, then, must lead back to the living world.

_But to what,_ _to whom?_

He didn't see that he had anything in his life worth returning to. Was he meant to go back and continue to help Lily's boy? Was that why she met him here?

Even assuming the boy and his friends were successful in defeating Voldemort without his further help, what hope did he have? After all that had happened, he would end up in Azkaban, tormented and alone.

He looked at the dark door again. _I should pass on_. Perhaps there would be something better for him, less painful, beyond the veil. Perhaps there he could finally make it up to Lily for all the terrible things he had done.

But she had said to give himself a chance, that he was forgiven. He wasn't sure he believed it.

He looked up a the door back to life, and banged his fist on the window ledge. How was he to choose? Why had she left him again?

It seemed, for perhaps the first time ever, he had no idea what to do.

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><p>Sometime later—he had no idea how long, though he had not moved from the place where Lily had left him by the windows—he noticed movement outside. A short procession was making its way across the lawn towards an imposing black marble tombstone that appeared on the green. He recognized most of the line: colleagues, Harry Potter and his friends, a few other students and members of the Order.<p>

He wondered who the funeral was meant for as Hagrid approached the tomb with a limp body in his arms. Long black hair spilled over the half-giant's brown coat, and as Hagrid set the corpse gently on top of the stone, Severus's breath caught in his throat.

It was _his_ funeral.

His body was wrapped in black funeral robes, his arms folded neatly over his chest with his ebony wand. His face no longer wore the scowl ever-present during his life; If at all possible, he looked peaceful.

As the small group stood in front of the tomb, Harry took up a place at the front.

"Severus Snape was a mysterious man, sometimes cold. But in his heart was love," said the boy, sounding tired but confident. "In the end, Severus Snape showed courage and loyalty that we can only hope to have. For this, for saving me, I thank him. To Severus Snape, the bravest man I ever met," he finished, and raised his wand. The rest of the group raised their wands in unity, and his corpse faded from sight.

Snape grimaced as he noticed several of those in the crowd were crying. He wondered if the scene below him was real, or if was all in his mind. He wasn't entirely sure how things worked in this place. _Surely, this must be some farce of my mind_._ No one could be sad at my passing._

Slowly the group filed away. A few stayed behind at the tomb and said a few words of thanks. Even Neville Longbottom, who he had always seemed to terrify, said a quiet thank you.

The Granger girl stayed the longest. In her face was a mixture of sadness and confusion.

"Professor Snape," she said quietly when she approached the grave. "I know you can't hear this, but I wanted to say thank you. As a teacher, you taught me a lot. But I know you were looking out for us all too. I always had a feeling you were on our side." She put her hand on the tombstone and bowed her head, her bushy hair blocking her face. "You saved us in the end. I hope you are happy and at peace now. Goodbye, Professor Snape. Thank you."

Snape grimaced at the gross outpouring of sentiment. People were thanking him? Saying good things about him? He didn't see how it could be true, didn't understand what it could possibly mean in this place.

What was the point of the vision? What was his brain trying to tell him? Was he being mocked by his own subconscious?

In the end he couldn't figure it out, and still couldn't decide between the doors.

Perhaps he would simply stay in this place forever.


	2. Chapter 2: No Turning Back

**Chapter 2: No turning back**

Hermione stood in front of a two-story stucco home, staring up the cement front path. The first thought that struck her was that it looked nothing like her family's home in London. It was bland, for one, a grey boxy house with narrow windows and a large garage on the left. The garden was well-groomed and bordered by a concrete and iron fence, but it did not look well-used or well-loved. There was no tangle of plants against the fence, no weeds sticking out of the path, no rose bush that she and her mother had planted when she was seven. The home looked sterile; there were no children here, no steps to jump off the front porch into the puddles in the rain, no pink paper stars hanging in a large front bay window.

She knew that her parents' home in Australia would look different, but she was not prepared for how much. As she stood staring at the black front door, Hermione suddenly wondered if her parents were happier living this way—without her.

_No,_ she thought, shaking her head to rid herself of her negative thoughts. _They love you. They will be glad to have you back in their life, no matter what their house looks like. _

Gripping her wand, she took a careful step forward, followed by several more, and before long was standing in front of the black front door, pressing the bell. She heard it ring inside, a bright cheery tone, and then the muffled call of her mother's voice; she almost cried at the sound, it had been so long since she'd heard it, but pushed her feelings down. There would be time to cry later, when her parents were in her arms, having become her parents once again.

A moment later, the door was open, and she was staring into her mother's sweet brown-sugar eyes, which matched her own.

"Hello, can I help you?" she asked lightly, and Hermione felt her heart break just a little as she realized there was no recognition on her face at all.

Fighting back tears, Hermione gave herself a determined mental push, and squeaked, "Hello, mum," wishing nothing more than to hug the woman in front of her.

"I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong person," said her mother, looking confused.

"No, I'm sorry, but I've come to fix it," said Hermione, raising her wand and casting the spell she knew would reverse her memory charms.

"What are you doing?" said her mother, her face unchanged, though looking slightly more worried. "Who are you?"

Hermione blinked, startled, wondering why her spell hadn't worked. It should have. She'd done the research. But then why was her mother staring at her as if she was considering calling the police?

Hermione cast the spell again, waving her wand more forcefully, willing her magic to work, and yet her mother stood before her, beginning to look truly frightened now.

"I think you need to leave," she said warily. Hermione could not move, her feet cemented in place on her parents' doorstep.

"I don't understand," she said, unable to accept what was happening in front of her. "Mum, it's me! It's Hermione, your daughter!" She reached out to try and hug her mother but the woman jumped backwards, clearly afraid.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said her mother, her voice shaking. "I don't have any children. Please leave." She made to shut the door, but Hermione bolted forward, pushing past her into the square front hall. Her mother screamed, and then her father was stomping down the stairs that emptied into the foyer, asking what was going on.

"Dad!" said Hermione, casting the spell again as he turned towards her. "It's me, Hermione!"

"Well, Hermione, you need to leave this house right now. I don't know who you are but you are scaring my wife—and me," said the sandy-haired man who had tucked her into bed every night as a child, read her the same stories over and over at her behest. Except instead of his normal loving gaze, his chocolate eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and anger as he spat the words at her.

"Get out, or I'll call the police!" he shouted. Something triggered in Hermione's mind at his words, and she bolted out the door, not looking back.

Her feet pounded blindly against the pavement until her leg muscles and her lungs screamed at her to stop. She slowed to a walk, still gripping her wand in her hand, letting the tears fall freely from her eyes.

She kept moving, her feet tapping against the ground, not caring what direction she was travelling. She knew if she stopped she would be overwhelmed by it all, get sucked into the grief like a strong riptide that could carry her out to sea.

Seeing her parents again, bringing them back to a world in which they could exist together without fear, was the only thing that got her through the past year. The torture, the searching, the frustration, the fear and the hurt—she could have handled it all except for this moment.

She would grieve, eventually, but not here. Not in this place that was so foreign to her that she wondered how she could have thought to send her parents here in the first place.

_Because you love them,_ her mind reminded her. _Enough to protect them. Enough to let them not love you back._

It nearly sent her over the edge, but she forced her feet to keep moving, choked back the scream that was building in her chest with every step.

As she reached the end of a dark street and turned into an alley, she knew she had to get back to England quickly. She needed to be back somewhere she could cry, somewhere she could piece together her now infinitely more broken life. Maybe there she could find a way restore her parents' memories, but even as she thought it she knew it was hopeless. There was no other spell; she'd read all the books last year before performing the initial memory charms. She'd simply done too good a job, and for the first time in her life she wished she was not so talented at magic.

Without pausing her feet at the end of the dark alley, she spun to the left and Apparated, feeling more alone than she ever had in her life.


	3. Chapter 3: Undecided

A/N: A short one as I am still setting everything up. Please be patient while I get things rolling for a few chapters. It will all begin to come together soon enough, I promise. Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. I appreciate all your comments.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Undecided<strong>

Severus still couldn't fathom how he'd ended up in this place. He didn't understand how he could be anything but dead. He had willingly stepped in front of the grim, ready to die for the cause, and yet in this place he found it impossible to make the decision again, to open the door that would lead him beyond. Perhaps it was because no one was waving innocent lives in front of him, asking him to choose; given the choice between himself and others, the answer was easy. But when it was him alone, it was as if he was petrified.

The problem was, he was equally as unwilling to choose the other door. He had never really thought of himself surviving the war. It wasn't as if he'd be allowed back as a teacher; he wasn't even sure he would want such a post now that he had no need to protect the school nor easy access to Dumbledore. But it wasn't as if he had anything else. He had no friends, his bridges burned with the Order the second he accepted Albus's pleas and the green light had escaped the tip of his wand. The Death Eaters were never friends, and yet their mark would stay with him forever, branding him as one of those he most despised. No, if he went back, he would be alone. Worse, he would surely be arrested, put on trial, perhaps even sent to Azkaban. He would rather be here than in Azkaban.

Severus pressed his fingers into his eyes, letting the blackness envelope his vision. He focused on his breathing, forcing his scattered thoughts to fade behind the rushing sound in his ears. When his mind cleared, he released his hands from his face and peered blankly out the window, watching the fog shift at the edge of the green.

It he hadn't known this was all in his mind, he would have said there was a breeze outside. The fog swirled, folding in on itself, yet it never shifted from the smudged line that marked the edge of what he now considered to be his own mental prison.

Severus stood up, walking around the room once before settling back down by the windows. He wasn't sure why he continued to look, as if someone might appear below. Since Hermione had left his grave some eternity ago, there was never anything outside except the short expanse of green, the black tomb, the white fog, and a sliver of sky that faded between blue and black.

As he looked outside, his thoughts drifted back to his childhood, sitting in the grass in the park with Lily in the summer as they watched the birds flitter about in the trees and soar overhead. She'd always liked the robins best, their tiny bodies and bright red chests puffed out as if they knew they were the favourite; he should have known then, from her choice of bird, that she'd end up a Gryffindor.

He'd always preferred the swallows. He enjoyed the way they soared overhead, strong and agile, their long forked tails streaming out behind them like ribbons. They never seemed to tire, and he relished the ease at which they plucked flies out of the air. He'd wished he could take what he wanted so easily, could soar away into the blue with Lily by his side.

He laughed bitterly now, thinking that he could, in fact, soar with the swallows if he wanted to. Oh, but what a cost he'd paid to fulfill that desire. Lily, of course, could never join him; long buried in the ground, her flesh and bones had become food for the worms, who in turn were food for the robins that she loved.

He wished she would return to him now. At the very least she was someone to talk to, a friend in this strange place. If he could talk to her more, then perhaps he could understand what she meant when she said he had a chance.

But it was clear to him that he was meant to decide on his own which door to walk through, if he chose one at all. So he looked out the window, and wished for a swallow to appear and to carry his soul where it was meant to be.


	4. Chapter 4: Rebuilding

A/N: Thanks again for all the lovely reviews. I really do appreciate them! Now back to our dear Hermione...

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: Rebuilding <strong>

The papers said she was a hero, but Hermione Granger didn't feel like one. Mostly, she felt tired and scared and alone.

There had always been a purpose before: keep Harry and Ron safe, find Horcruxes, fight Voldemort. Now that it was over, she didn't know what to do. She'd failed at the only goal that she had after the war—return her parents' memories—and now she felt inexplicably stuck, as if a thick fog was holding her in place.

Upon returning to Britain, she realized she was homeless. She'd gone to Ron first, at The Burrow. He'd done his best to comfort her, but she knew he could not truly understand how she felt when he looked shocked and confused when she'd burst into tears after he'd snaked his hands up her shirt to touch her breasts only three days after her return.

There was a hole inside her now that she wasn't sure could never be filled.

The Weasley's would have let her stay with them at The Burrow, or Harry at Grimmauld Place until she figured out what she wanted to do, but after the incident with Ron she wanted to be alone. So she she went where she felt the safest, where she knew she could find the space she needed. She returned to Hogwarts.

The castle was severely damaged in the final battle, and Professor McGonagal, now headmistress, welcomed her help with repairs. Even though the school wasn't free from difficult memories, Hermione hoped that just as she had found out about her true self at the age of 11 here in this castle, she might find out who she was again after the war.

She hadn't decided yet if she would stay in the fall and complete her seventh year. She didn't need to, she knew—she had been offered a position as an Auror along with Harry, Ron and Neville. But she wasn't sure she wanted to continue fighting; she'd seen enough terror in her life already, and Defense Against the Dark Arts was never her favourite subject.

In the meantime, she quickly discovered her desire to help put the old castle back together. If not for herself, then for the future students who would study and find their own power and knowledge in its halls.

Only two weeks had passed since she arrived and it was now early June, and the skies above Hogwarts were bright blue. Small wisps of clouds danced high in the atmosphere, while barely a breeze floated over the lake.

Hermione looked up and shielded her eyes with her hand from the bright sun. She was sweating in the heat, dampness apparent at her hairline and at her armpits. She was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, her bushy hair tied back into a workmanlike ponytail as she helped clear rubble from the entrance courtyard.

It was hard work, but Hermione enjoyed the physicalness of it. As she heaved and levitated the wreckage, her mind focused only on lifting and moving the debris into a pile beside tiny Flitwick, who was charming the pieces back together and into the castle walls. As she hoisted each stone, she forgot about the bodies lined up in the Great Hall, the constant fear of death, her torture at Malfoy manor, Professor Snape's shining eyes as he fought to help them with his final breaths, her parents' disbelieving faces as they gawked at her in the foyer of their sterile grey house.

"Nicely done, Miss Granger," chirped Flitwick as she placed a particularly large piece of granite on his left with her wand. She smiled briefly at the tiny wizard, who wore a light sapphire linen robe tied at the waist with a gold belt. "Why don't you take a lunch break? It's nearly one," he said.

"Thanks, Professor," said Hermione, stowing away her wand in her pocket. She went up the stone stairs into the Entrance Hall and into the small room she had stood in nervously as a first year before being sorted into Gryffindor, and then slumped into one of the chairs that had been placed along the wall.

With the Great Hall heavily damaged, the staff had chosen this room to act as their centre of operations. On the opposite wall from Hermione was a table lined with sandwiches, fruit and drinks left by the elves. Blueprints of the castle hung to the walls, colour coded to show the damaged areas that were repaired, were in process, and were still left to do. Each area had been assigned to one of four teams, shown with the letter of the professor that led the group. Hermione was in Group F, the letter stamped over the entrance courtyard of the school. Group S, led by Professor Sprout, was busy repairing the greenhouses; Group V, with Professor Vector, was currently working on the Astronomy Tower; and finally Group H, with Madame Hooch, was repairing the Quidditch pitch.

Hermione stretched out her back and arms, letting free a soft sigh as her muscles relaxed a bit from the labour of the morning. Then she wordlessly summoned a sandwich and an apple over from the table.

She wasn't sure how they were going to finish repairing the castle by the first of September. It had been burned and blasted severely in the final battle, and they had barely finished a quarter of the repairs.

She was munching on her apple, deep in thought, when the door opened and Neville Longbottom came into the room.

"Oh, hello Hermione," he said as he noticed her. He looked taller, more confident since the end of the war. She knew his grandmother had wanted him to come home, but he had surprisingly refused, determined to help restore the castle. He was one of the few former students who had decided to help along with her.

"Hi, Neville," Hermione smiled. "How are the greenhouses coming along?"

"Oh, fine," said Neville. "We found a group of Putrid Pansies buried beneath some rubble in greenhouse five. Professor Sprout was happy—thought we'd lost them all."

"That's great!" said Hermione, as Neville grabbed himself a few sandwiches.

"Well, I should get back. Later, Hermione," he said.

"Later, Neville," she replied.

As Neville closed the door behind him, Hermione stood and grabbed a bottle of water, supposing she should get back to work too. Sad thoughts were beginning to creep into her mind—all the faces she would never see again—and it wouldn't do to dwell on them.

They were almost finished repairing the castle wall in the courtyard when they finally stopped working that evening. Hermione smiled as she pocketed her wand. Except for a few missing stones, it looked almost like she remembered.

"I think we'll be able to move on to the statues tomorrow," said Flitwick. "You can all go to dinner now. Miss Granger, Professor McGonagal would like to speak with you before you eat."

Hermione went to the new headmistress's office as instructed, wondering what she might want, praying it was not bad news.

"Scottish Fold," she said to the gargoyle, which was still looking a little worse for wear but was at least upright. It jumped immediately out of her way as it always had.

McGonagal was reading through a tall stack of parchment at her desk when Hermione reached the top of the stairs.

"Good evening, Professor," said Hermione.

"Ah, good evening, Miss Granger," McGonagal said, looking up and setting down the quill she was holding. "Professor Flitwick tells me you've been a great help."

Hermione smiled and approached her old Head of House. Closer now, Hermione could see the topmost page had a short list of names.

"Not a good list, I'm afraid. Several people are still being reported missing," the woman frowned, and Hermione suddenly noticed she looked very tired, a few more creases present in her face than she remembered.

"Vincent Crabbe died in the Room of Requirement," said Hermione, pointing to his name at the top of Professor McGonagal's list. "I'm not sure there will be a body. He was killed by fiendfyre."

"Thank you, Miss Granger," said McGonagal with a grimace, and made a note on the parchment.

Eager to change the subject, Hermione said, "You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"That I did," said McGonagal, pushing the stack of parchment to the side of her desk. "But first, how are you doing, Miss Granger?"

"I'm fine, Professor," said Hermione, shocked at how easily the lie came out of her mouth. In reality she had nightmares almost every night. She hadn't told anyone, knowing her friends were busy dealing with their own trauma and repairs from the war, and that many others had it worse than she did: Ron and Ginny had lost their brother, Harry his whole family. At least she was alive and knew that her parents were safe in Australia, even if they didn't remember her.

McGonagal gave her an appraising look, but nodded. "In that case, I hope you might take on a more significant task than rubble levitation."

"A task?" asked Hermione curiously, wondering what it might be, and hoping it had nothing to do with McGonagal's list.

"Yes, well, it's probably easier if I show you," she said, getting up. "This way."

Following McGonagal to the back of the room, Hermione looked up and noticed Professor Snape's portrait was still missing beside Dumbledore, who was sleeping in his frame. The headmistress stopped in front of a bookshelf and tapped a green spine with her wand. The bookshelf folded inwards, revealing another spiral staircase going up. "Follow me, Miss Granger," said McGonagal, beginning to climb the stairs.

The top of the stairs opened into another circular room, which was obviously the Headmaster's quarters. Except rather than looking neat, filled with the burgundy and gold tartans that Hermione expected to see in McGonagal's room, it looked like something had exploded. The black curtains on the four-poster bed were in shreds, books and broken objects were scattered across the floor, a table and chairs lay in pieces in the middle of the room, the velvet sofa was shredded as if a tiger had used it as a scratching post, and the vanity mirror had a jagged piece of wood sticking out of the broken glass.

"Yes, well, you can see Professor Snape left the room in a quite a state," said McGonagal sourly. "I was hoping you might go through everything and clean it up. I'd do it myself, of course, but I'm so busy with everything else, and I want to make sure nothing," she paused for a second, "…_important_ is missed. Seeing as you know the situation, I thought you might be willing to help."

"I'd be happy to, Professor," said Hermione, already calculating how she might go about organizing and searching through the materials. She paused, choosing her next words carefully. "By important, do you mean anything that might signal where Professor Snape's loyalty might have truly lied?"

"Something like, that, yes," said McGonagal, scowling. Harry had told the Order about Snape's true role, and they believed him—well enough that McGonagal had allowed Snape's body to be buried next to Dumbledore's by the lake—but the Ministry still remained uncertain and there was likely going to be a posthumous trial at Harry's insistence to clear Snape's name.

"I'll be sure to let you know if I find anything," said Hermione.

"I knew I could count on you, Miss Granger," said McGonagal. "You can let yourself in when you need to. One of the portraits will be able to find me if you need me. Now, let's go get some dinner, shall we?"


	5. Chapter 5: Discovery

**Chapter 5: Discovery**

By the end of the second day in the old headmaster's quarters, Hermione was fairly certain she would be able to cast _Reparo_ wandless, mute and blindfolded. While the table leg remained stubbornly stuck in the vanity mirror, Hermione had managed to clean up the space well enough to begin searching through everything: the books were neatly stacked in one corner, objects set on a set of shelves by the stairwell, the bed made (she'd already made sure to check for anything that might have been hidden under the mattress), and the sofa, table and chairs were once again whole and placed in the centre of the room so Hermione could use them to study anything she found.

She set about searching through Snape's belongings in a methodical way, starting with the substantial pile of books. She knew from experience that books could contain more than one might think, so gathered several to start with and placed them on the table.

The first book she opened was a potions manual, _Draughts of Disorder_ (Hermione grimaced a little at the title). She checked for any hexes just to be sure, and then opened the cover.

She was amused to see that Snape's annotations did not end with_ Advanced Potion Making_. His untidy scrawl covered many of the margins and scratched over recipes for things like the _Wretching Potion _(which thankfully wore off after 24 hours)_, Formicatio _(which covered your body with an itchy rash)_, _and the _Elixir of Discontent _(Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to know what that one did and quickly skipped to the next page after ensuring Snape's notes were about the potion only)_._

After only three books, Hermione realized why Harry had loathed to get rid of the Half Blood Prince's potions manual. Whatever his loyalties, Severus Snape was a brilliant man.

After six books, Hermione realized it was getting dark outside. Her back ached a little from bending over the table all day, and she stifled a yawn. Despite her progress and a stack of notes, she had yet to find anything that would help unravel the mysteries of her old professor.

Stretching, she got up and went downstairs. McGonagal was not in her office, and the portraits were snoring in their frames. She looked up at Dumbeldore, his silver beard shifting slightly as he snored.

She knew that Harry believed that Dumbledore had done everything for good, but it wasn't so black and white to Hermione. She couldn't forgive him so easily for lying to Harry about the truth of what Harry had to do, for sending them searching for Horcruxes with impossible clues.

Snape too had been manipulated by Dumbledore, she realized, forced to do the unthinkable and paying the ultimate price. She wished she had a chance to get to know her Potions Master better. She had always found him unnecessarily cruel as a teacher, but then, he had done so much for them in the end. It was Snape she was perhaps most confused about; he was a man in which light and darkness seemed to swirl together like the night sky, mysterious, terrifying and beautiful at the same time. Thus far, his rooms had not done anything to solve her uncertainties.

Shaking her head, she left the Headmaster's Tower and went to find some dinner.

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><p>It took her longer than she expected to get through the pile of books. By the time she had reached the final stack, she was working practically on automatic, scanning the pages of each tome for anything of significance. So far, nothing had stuck out, though she had taken plenty of notes and put aside several books with potions and spells she wanted to learn more about later.<p>

It was nearing dusk when she pulled one of the final books out of her shrinking pile. So far, all the books had been about potions, dark arts, or other magical endeavours, but this was an old copy of _Alice in Wonderland_, worn around the edges, the title pressed in gold into the soft purple cover. Hermione tried to open it, but the cover was stuck.

It wasn't glued together, but seemed to to be fastened by magic. She could feel it rippling slightly against her hand as she brushed the cover.

"Finite Incantatem," she said, tapping it with her wand, but nothing happened. She tried a few other spells to no avail. Then, she remembered something she had read in a previous spell book from Snape's collection.

"Renodo Materia," she said, and touched her wand to the cover. The book shimmered slightly, and the cover came loose.

Hermione gingerly picked it up and opened it. Inside was a short inscription:

_Severus,  
><em>_Wishing you many adventures on your birthday.  
><em>_Love, Lily  
><em>_1972_

_A gift from Lily to Snape? 1972… that would have been their second year at Hogwarts,_ surmised Hermione.

She began flipping through the pages, and several photos, a folded piece of parchment, and a newspaper clipping fell out of the back.

Hermione opened the piece of parchment, which was mostly blank, and read:

_could ever have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald. I think her mind's going, personally!  
><em>_Lots of love,  
><em>_Lily_

She wasn't sure what it meant, but it was from Lily, so maybe that's why he kept it. She put it aside and picked up the photographs.

Two were of Lily. The first was from during her time at Hogwarts; from her more mature looks, it was taken far later than 1972. Lily was facing perpendicular to the camera, laughing, her eyes alight and gesturing wildly to someone out of the frame. There was something blocking the left hand side of the photo, almost as if it was taken from behind a wall or a tree. But then, if this was after their fifth year, Lily would have ended her friendship with Snape. Perhaps the photo was taken in secret?

The second was an older Lily, and was torn along one edge. She was bent over at the waist, laughing and smiling.

Hermione put them down and picked up the next photo. This one was of Snape himself. He was in his Hogwarts robes, and Hermione thought he must have been in his fourth or fifth year. He wore his signature scowl, his arms crossed in front of his chest, and Hermione was surprised to see he was not unattractive. Perhaps it was the look of uncertainty in his dark eyes that made him look so different from the belligerent professor she knew from class. The bottom corners of the photo looked singed, as though someone had stopped it from burning.

The final photo was of Snape and Lily when they were young, likely before ever going to Hogwarts, and must have been taken by a Muggle camera, as neither the young witch or wizard was moving. Lily was smiling widely and had her arm draped across Snape's shoulders. Snape looked embarrassed but not displeased, a crooked half-smile on his pale face.

The final item, a newspaper clipping, was from _The Daily Prophet_. It was an article about Lily and James' death, and of Harry's survival. _The Boy Who Lived _was stamped in large type across the top of the page. There was a picture of the family, smiling and happy, obviously taken several months before. Little Harry was in his mother's arms, staring up at his father, no scar yet apparent on his forehead.

These things confirmed, if nothing else, Snape's attachment to Harry's mother. Though judging from the spell protecting them, she wasn't entirely sure he wanted anyone to know about them.

Hermione looked once more at the photo of young Snape, handsome and angry, and wondered what drew him to the Death Eaters, to give in to the darkness the woman he loved so obviously stood against.

Unless she found something else in this room, she supposed she may never know.


	6. Chapter 6: Voices

A/N: Thanks for sticking with me so far. Hopefully by the end of this chapter you'll see where I've been headed. Things will start rolling much more quickly from here. Thanks as well for all the kind reviews so far; I read them all. Please keep them coming.

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><p><strong>Chapter 6: Voices<strong>

Snape was lying on the hard stone floor, arguing with himself.

_You can't stay here forever you know._

_Why not?_

_Your body won't last indefinitely._

_Then I won't need to make a choice._

_Then why not simply pass over?_

_Because…_

_Because?_

_What if I really have a chance for something better?_

_So then return to life._

_But it's impossible. I am… irreparable. _

_So then pass over._

_But she said…_

"Hello, Professor," said a soft female voice, interrupting his internal dialogue, startling him. He thought maybe Lily had returned, but quickly realized that she would not call him professor.

Severus lifted himself up on his elbows to scan the room, finding he was alone.

"Oh, this is stupid!" the voice said. "I know you can't hear me, but I just thought…"

Severus stood up and went to the window, the only other place where he had heard voices before now. Standing below him, by the tombstone once again, was Hermione Granger.

"What would Harry and Ron think if they saw me talking to a grave?" she chuckled to herself.

"I can't imagine, Miss Granger," said Severus silkily, but she didn't seem to hear him.

Hermione lowered herself to the ground, her back resting against the dark marble.

"I found your hidden memories," she said, drawing her knees to her chest. "Very good protection spells, sir."

"Clearly not good enough," snapped Severus with a scowl. He hadn't really wanted anyone to find his stash of bottles filled with streams of silver memories, but for some reason had felt compelled to create them. Maybe it was in case he died before passing on the information to Harry, or maybe he simply wanted somebody to know who he really was once he was gone. He'd hidden them in a secret compartment he'd conjured behind the vanity mirror.

"It was lucky the mirror was broken, or I never would have looked," continued Hermione.

"Damn," swore Severus, rubbing his temples.

"I haven't shown Professor McGonagal yet. I mean, I told her I found them so I could use the pensieve, but I managed to convince her to let me go through everything first."

Snape groaned inwardly at the thought of Miss Granger and Minerva going through his stash of memories. He imagined them laughing at him over the pensieve. _What a stupid man, _he thought,_ I should never have saved them all. _

He wondered hopefully if Hermione and her words could be all in his mind. He still wasn't really sure how this place worked. There were few writings on the subject of Limbo, as most witches and wizards never went through it. _Lucky me, _thought Severus bitterly.

"I knew about you and Lily, of course, from what Harry told me. But I had no idea your feelings were that strong. The things you did to try and protect her, and afterward…"

_Oh Merlin, please let this be all in my mind_.

"I hope one day I can love someone as much," Hermione continued. "I know I have Ron. I've wanted to be with him for so long, but…"

Severus really wasn't sure how hearing about Hermione Granger's love life going to help him make a decision, unless the purpose was to torture him into killing himself for good.

"… well, I supposed it doesn't matter."

_Clearly._

Hermione sighed and stretched in the grass. "What are you doing now, in the afterlife? Are you with Lily? I suppose not, since James would be there too."

Severus frowned. _Of course, James would be there too. _

"Does it work the same way with people in the afterlife? Is everyone jumbled together in a single room, or do you get your own piece of heaven and get to choose who's there with you?"

Severus paused. It was an interesting thought, one he hadn't really considered, he'd been concentrating so hard on choosing for himself. Was the afterlife even somewhere he wanted to go?

"I used to think there wasn't an afterlife at all, until Sirius died. But there's definitely something, isn't there, 'beyond the veil'?"

_By the sounds of it, yes, _Severus answered to himself.

"Anyway, no matter how it works or looks, I'm sure Lily would forgive you and want to see you."

_She was here, and she said so. But can she really?_

Hermione paused for several minutes, looking up at the sky. Severus was about to turn away when she spoke again: "Were you afraid of Voldemort? You always seemed so brave, so controlled."

"At the beginning," answered Severus, out loud once more. Memories of lying face down in the dirt, filled with terror as he kissed Voldemort's pale feet beneath the edges of his robe, pledging his loyalty filled his head. He remembered the searing pain, like a million tiny needles stabbing his flesh, as the dark mark penetrated his skin. He remembered the regret, later, closing down his mind like a vault in Gringotts so no one could see inside. At that time, he had been so scared to die; he'd played a good Death Eater just to stay alive. But then the Dark Lord threatened Lily, and it had all changed.

"Well, I better get back to the castle," said Hermione, and Severus looked out at her once more. She got up and looked solemnly at the tomb. What was in her eyes?

"Thanks, Professor Snape," she said. Then she kissed her fingers and placed her hand on top of the grave before walking away.

Severus had no idea what to think about that.


	7. Chapter 7: Family

A/N: Starting with this chapter, this fic will be earning it's M rating. Be warned that descriptions of abuse, torture, sex, etc. follow, and I won't be easing into it slowly. If you aren't comfortable with such things, please stop reading now. For the rest of you, I promise things will lighten up eventually!

Thanks as always for the reviews. I always enjoy hearing what you think!

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><p><strong>Chapter 7: Family<strong>

Hermione entered the memory was was immediately struck by the sound of a man yelling.

"Didn't think I would find out, did you? You think you're so fucking smart, don't you?"

"No, I swear, I'm hiding nothing," said a female voice.

"Don't fucking lie to me, bitch," the man hissed. He was large, with a portly belly, and was standing in a tiny sitting room, his face red and spittle spraying from his lips as he berated a thin, dark-haired woman who was trembling in front of him.

"I'm not lying," said the woman. "It just happened. I didn't mean to, I swear!"

"Liar! You think you can fool me with that fucking magic of yours. You think you're better than me, think I wouldn't notice what you've been doing," he spat, grabbing her wrist, and Hermione noticed her flinch.

"Mommy?" said a small voice, and Hermione looked down to see a tiny boy, black hair falling in front of large, dark eyes that stared up at his mother in concern and confusion. He could not be more than four, but there was no mistaking it was Severus Snape. Which meant the woman was Eileen Prince—no, Eileen Snape—and the man was his father Tobias.

"It's okay, dear, just go and play in the yard now," said Eileen, her voice trembling, eyes darting to the man who was still gripping her wrist tightly enough that Hermione was sure there would be a bruise.

"Get out of here, you runt!" yelled Tobias. He kicked out at the boy unsteadily, and Hermione suddenly realized he was drunk.

"Mommy, please," said tiny Severus with large, watery eyes.

Hermione felt herself unconsciously screaming "no!" as Tobias's foot connected with the boy this time, shoving him into a heap near the kitchen. "I said get out, you slimy little freak!"

Severus's eyes began to pool with tears, and then he began to wail.

"Shut him up!" screeched Tobias, rounding on his mother once more, grabbing her arms and shoving her forcefully toward the crying boy in the kitchen.

"Shh, Severus, it's okay. Let's go outside," she said softly, tears running down her cheeks, as she picked the boy up in her arms and carried him out towards the back of the house.

The memory shifted suddenly and Hermione felt herself in the tiny sitting room once again. It was silent this time, Severus's father collapsed in an armchair next to the fire, a portion of his rotund belly showing between his belt and a dirty old t-shirt.

"Hurry up, woman!" He shouted, and Hermione heard the tinkling of ice from the kitchen, and then Eileen appeared, carrying a glass of clear liquid. She quickly deposited it in her husband's hand, who grunted and took a sip.

Eileen Snape's face had changed since the last memory: there were more lines etched into her pale skin, and her face was more solemn than fearful, but what struck Hermione most was the deadness in her eyes.

Severus's father grunted again, and reached up and crudely grabbed her hair behind her head, pulling her down to his face. He kissed her sloppily, and though Hermione could not smell him, she knew his breath would reek of alcohol. Severus's mother bent obediently, allowing her mouth to be savaged by the grotesque man, and Hermione felt herself shudder in disgust.

A small cough came from her left then, and Hermione looked to see another young Severus Snape. He was older, maybe ten or eleven, and was reading a very worn copy of a book she immediately recognized. It was _A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_.

"What are you looking at, you ungrateful brat?" hissed his father, turning to glare at him, his hand still tangled in Eileen's hair.

"Nothing," muttered Severus, going back to his book.

"Get the fuck out and do something useful then," he snapped.

"The laundry needs bringing in," offered Eileen in kind but timid voice, and Severus lifted himself from the floor with a frown, closing his book and tucking it neatly under his arm. He was wearing a very tattered old pair of trousers and a grey shirt that looked far too large on his skinny frame, and Hermione found herself wondering how much food he actually ate.

Hermione followed Severus through to the back of his house, trying to ignore Tobias's slurred, "Come here, woman," as he passed through the kitchen and into a small, dirty, concrete-walled yard. Severus put his book carefully on a broken chair leaning against the wall of the house, and began pulling clothes from a limp, fraying clothesline that hung between the house and the gate. Severus's fingers, long and bony, plucked the thinning clothes from the line, folding each of them neatly and dropping them into a pathetic looking teal plastic laundry basket.

When he was done, he tucked the laundry inside the back door, picked up his book, and walked out into the small lane through the back gate, and Hermione followed him once more.

He turned up the lane and then down a narrow street between more houses identical to his own. For several blocks he paced along, his gait gangly, not at all like the graceful professor she knew. Then he turned down another lane, at the end of which Hermione could see a park, it's green field and a swing set visible between the houses at the end of the row.

Entering the park, Severus turned once more and made his way to a small copse of trees, where he settled himself in the shade, opening his book once more. Hermione knelt in front of him to study him better. Though much younger than the Snape she knew, she could clearly see the resemblance, his long nose and black, bottomless eyes familiar to her even on his boyish face.

A few minutes later, a pair of girls approached. One had long red hair, wore a light dress, and smiled at Severus; the other looked more severe, scowling at him with arms crossed over her small chest.

"Hi, Sev!" Said the smiling girl, and Hermione thought she recognized her eyes from somewhere too. "What you reading?"

"_A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_," said Severus, looking up and smiling at her. "Did you get your books yet?"

"Yes, last week. Potions looks interesting, don't you think? I always liked science class," she said, and Hermione suddenly realized where she recognized the girl's eyes: they were Harry's eyes, and she was staring at a very young version of Harry's mum.

"Would you please stop speaking about that freak school?" snapped the other girl.

"It's not a freak school!" said Severus hotly. "Go somewhere else if you don't want to hear about it."

"Fine, I will!" the girl shouted and turned her back on them.

"Tuney, wait!" yelled Lily as the girl stormed away, but Severus reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Let her go," he said firmly. "She's just jealous."

Lily looked unsure but nodded, settling down on the grass beside him.

"I can't wait to get out of here," said Severus bitterly, but then his expression lightened. "One month and then we'll be at Hogwarts for almost a whole year!" He looked like he could have fainted from joy at the prospect, and based on what Hermione had seen so far of his memories, she wasn't entirely sure she blamed him; though, she also knew that Severus's abuse didn't stop at Hogwarts either.

"It'll be strange not seeing my mum and dad and 'Tuney every day," said Lily, and Hermione found herself drawn to the young girl. As a fellow Muggleborn, she knew how hard it was after growing up in the Muggle world to suddenly be sent away from everyone and everything you knew, no matter how exciting it all was. The wizard-born children who'd known about Hogwarts their whole lives never seemed to understand.

"I won't miss my parents one bit," said Severus firmly, clearly not getting it either. "Anyway, you can always owl your parents a letter."

"I suppose," said Lily, though her expression said she wasn't convinced.

"Just think of all the spells we'll learn. Powerful spells," said Severus, his expression slightly greedy. "We'll see what my dad says once I can curse him." He laughed to himself, and though Hermione knew what he said was dark, she thought he was rather cute when he giggled.

"Severus, you wouldn't!" said Lily, mouth gaping at him.

"No," he admitted glumly, and the word seemed to bring relief to Lily, whose face softened. "I wish I was 17 already. Then I'd be a powerful wizard, and I could leave this place forever."

"I'd miss you if you left," said Lily, and Severus positively beamed at her for that, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks.

"You could come with me," he said nervously. "We could get a house somewhere nice and do whatever we wanted. We'd never have to see anyone else."

"I dunno," she said, "I'd miss my family."

"Who cares about your family?" snapped Severus flippantly.

"I do!" shouted Lily, and Severus balked. "I better go find 'Tuney," said Lily, getting up.

"Okay," said Severus, looking sad and confused.

"Bye, Sev," Lily said with a shrug, and turned her back on him.

The memory shifted again and Hermione once again found herself standing in Severus's parents' sitting room listening to the yelling of his father.

"Eileen! Hurry up with my drink, woman!" yelled Tobias, standing in the middle of the room as the memory materialized in front of her.

"She's not your bloody slave," said a quiet, deep voice that sounded much closer to the one Hermione remembered from class. She turned towards the speaker; an older Severus leaned against the doorway that she assumed led upstairs, his long black hair concealing much of his face as his gaze pointed toward the floor.

"Don't they teach you to respect your elders at that fucking school of yours?" Tobias yelled at Severus, swaying dangerously towards him. "Woman, drink!"

"You're already drunk, you asshole," Severus muttered quietly, his eyes flicking upward to his father, who had a vein pulsing violently at his temple.

"You disobedient piece of shit!" screamed Tobias, and suddenly a fist was flying through the air, making a dull smacking sound as it crashed against Severus's face.

Severus stumbled sideways into the room, but quickly righted himself. He brought his hand up to wipe his nose, and Hermione was shocked to see it stained with blood. Severus stared at his hand, watching the blood drip from his fingers and onto the floor.

"Look at me, you worthless son-of-a-bitch," growled his father.

Severus raised his eyes, which were glowing full of rage, blood continuing to drip from his nose and onto his overlarge white t-shirt.

His father smiled smugly, clearly thinking he'd won. "Go get me a fucking drink, boy," he said.

Severus straightened himself, staring defiantly at his father, and Hermione realized he could not be more than 17. "Go fuck yourself," he spat, and Hermione screamed as a large hand swung down at him again. Severus flinched but did not try to avoid it, and it crashed into his cheek, roughly slapping his face to the side.

"How dare you, you smug little cock," growled his father. Severus stared at the floor, his body shaking, his arms held limply at his sides, though his fingers twitched as if he yearned to go for his wand.

"At least I can get my cock up," he said darkly.

Hermione thought it was a stupid comment to say to a man in an obvious drunken rage, and she was clearly right, as Tobias roared. He stumbled forward and grabbed Severus, pinning him against the wall and punching him repeatedly in the face and gut. Severus did not fight back, but raised his arms limply in front of his face in defence.

"Tobias stop!" came a cry from across the room, and for the first time Hermione noticed Eileen watching them from the kitchen. Her face was taught, her lips pressed together, her eyes flashing between fear and blankness.

"I'll get you your drink, Tobias," she said nervously. "Severus, go to your room," she said harshly.

Severus shrugged out of his father's grip and marched up the stairs, bruises beginning to appear over his left eye. Hermione saw his mother going into the kitchen, and heard Tobias yelling once more as he followed her, but Hermione shadowed Severus up the rickety stairs. At the landing, Severus turned right and went into a small room at the front of the house, Hermione close on his heels.

The walls of Severus's room were peeling, and his ancient-looking school trunk sat against the wall, a steel cot with a threadbare blanket against the other. There were no curtains on the small window, which looked out onto a grey street and a cloudy sky. To say the room's appearance shocked Hermione was an understatement. It looked like a prison cell, not a child's bedroom.

Based on his obvious anger downstairs, she expected Severus to slam the door behind him as they entered, but he shut it quietly, then sank down on his bed, which squeaked and sagged under his weight. All the rage that was in his body downstairs appeared to melt on the floor as he sat, muffled screams and shouts still coming from below.

Hermione felt a desperate urge to hug him and tell him he did not deserve to be treated so terribly by the people who were supposed to protect and love him, but instead stood still and watched him attempt to wipe the blood from his face with the hem of his shirt.

After a few minutes the shouts subsided, and then there was the sound of soft footsteps and a soft knock at the door. Severus said nothing, but it opened, and his mother walked in carrying a small tin.

"Oh, Severus, you need to stop making your father so angry with you. If you'd stop talking back, he wouldn't hit you," she said, looking forlorn, her eyes red and puffy as if she'd been crying. "Take this, it will help with the bruising," she added, passing him the tin. He took it solemnly, then turned his face to the window.

"Well, I better go make dinner before your father gets mad again," she said, forcing a smile. "I'll bring you up something later."

Severus nodded, and the memory faded as the door closed with a click.

Hermione's face felt damp as she lifted her head from the pensive, and she wondered if water had somehow got into the bowl with the memories.

She touched her cheeks, and realized suddenly that she was crying. She could not believe what she had just seen.

It was no wonder he loved Lily; she was the only person who ever showed him any real kindness. Hermione felt suddenly numb, and she wasn't sure if she was more shocked by Severus's father's drunk brutality, or his mother's poor attempts to soothe him. Had she really just blamed Severus for his father's violence?

Seeing what was before her, Hermione was no longer surprised Snape had become a Death Eater. He probably hoped to become powerful enough to get revenge on his father, or to at least move away, and she could understand why. If she had grown up in such an unloving and abusive household, she wasn't sure she wouldn't have latched onto power and the sense of camaraderie the Death Eaters provided—at least before they started killing people.

She wondered if Severus had known how violent the Death Eaters would become when he joined, and she decided probably not. He hadn't even been able to hit back against his worst abuser with more than words. Deep down, it was clear to her that his heart was kind, and it broke her own to know that he'd never had a chance to show it beyond acting as a spy and giving his life to end the war.

Wiping the tears from her face, she was suddenly even more determined to do what she could to restore his reputation in the eyes of the wizarding world. Even though he was gone, he deserved at least that one kindness.


	8. Chapter 8: Birdsong

**Chapter 8: Birdsong**

When Hermione returned, Severus was on the floor again, lying in the dark shadow that was forming beneath the window as the sun set. He thought it was a few days after her first visit, but it could have been more or less. Time seemed to move strangely in Limbo; Severus could never tell whether one minute or one hour had passed, and even when it was dark outside, the room remained glowing white.

"I don't know how you did it," Hermione began, her voice low. "I suppose you had to, with Voldemort and the others there. They would have killed you if you hadn't. But it was so awful. That poor Muggle."

Severus opened one eye, a sick feeling growing in his stomach when he recalled the only memory she could be describing.

"Did you know who it was before you did it? It didn't look like it, but…"

_No, that would have only made it worse, _he thought grimly, staring at the ceiling.

He remembered the man chosen for him to torture. Middle aged, with dark hair just starting to go grey at the temples, his blue eyes were wide and terrified when they brought him inside the manor room, hands and feet bound together as he was levitated over the ground.

"Wouldn't you like to have some fun, Severus?" Voldemort said to him, dropping the Muggle into the middle of the room with a thud.

"Surely someone else would prefer the honour," said Severus, knowing what was being asked of him.

"Now, now, Severus. We've all had a good time. It's your turn. Consider him my special present in return for all your hard work," said Voldemort, as if offering him a bottle of champagne.

Severus knew this was a test of his loyalty: there was no way this Muggle, with no connection to the wizarding world, could give them anything. Severus knew that if he refused, he'd likely be killed or tortured along with the Muggle in front of him now.

The Muggle twisted in his ropes, staring at Severus, shouting, "What do you want from me? Money? I haven't got much, but you can have it all! Please, let me go!"

"Come on, Severus, are you chicken?" Macnair shouted over his shoulder, as the Muggle continue to plead for his life.

"Is widdle Sevvy-poo scared of the big mean Muggle?" someone else chortled. A chorus of Death Eaters laughed behind him.

That was what had made him angry enough to do it.

Severus imagined the man was his father, was Sirius, was James, was all those people who had called him names, all those he had been too weak to stop. He raised his arm, allowing the rage to fill him.

"Crucio!"

The Muggle screamed and writhed on the floor. The other Death Eaters hooted and cheered as the Muggle began to froth at the mouth, his body twitching like a moth caught in a spider's web. Voldemort stood to the side, smiling serenely.

"You were so young," said Hermione, bringing Severus back to this time.

_Only 19._

"At least you didn't kill him."

_Was it really much better? _The Muggle had lost his mind before the others had finished with him, and then they'd dumped him in the street like a bag of trash.

Severus had never actually killed anyone directly aside from Albus, but this was the first of several he'd been forced to torture. And really, how many deaths had he caused indirectly, with either words or inaction? _So many_. _So very many. _

Severus clenched his fists, guilt swarming in his gut like a wasps' nest.

"Was that when you realized you'd made a mistake joining the Death Eaters? Or was it only later when Lily was in danger?"

Severus turned his mind to Hermione's question. In truth, he wasn't sure he had ever truly believed in Voldemort's cause. He'd had a lot of time to think about it between the wars, and had come to realize that just as the Dark Lord had used him, he had also used the Dark Lord in the beginning: for power, for some farce of friendship, for revenge against those he could not touch.

He regretted more than anything not listening to Lily when she told him how much he was changing, to be careful. But he'd never believed Lily would leave him, and at the time he had no idea how powerful Voldemort would become. Perhaps most importantly, being in Voldemort's gang felt so good at the beginning, felt like what he had been searching for. He'd thought joining the Death Eaters would make him a better wizard, a more desirable man; he could not have been more wrong.

Severus was lost in an angry hive of guilt and regret when Hermione spoke again.

"Do you think I looked like that? I wasn't bound, but…" she said quietly, her voice shaking. "It hurt so much. I couldn't stop her—no one could stop her."

Severus sat up and looked out the window towards the tombstone, where he knew he would see Hermione. She had her knees curled up to her chest, tears silently falling onto her jeans.

"I thought I was going to die," she cried. "I'd prepared myself for it, but when the moment came, I was so scared… I have nightmares of Bellatrix torturing me, or sometimes it's Dolohov. Sometimes both," she said softly, and Snape had a sudden urge to wrap her in his arms.

"I still have the scars," she said, touching her neck with her fingers. Then she turned her head, looking towards him with her shimmering brown eyes. Severus knew that she couldn't really be looking at him, but from his position at the window, it seemed that way, and he found himself staring back.

She took a shuddering breath, resting her chin on her knees, eyes still pointed upwards.

"The stars are beautiful tonight," she whispered. "Can you see them too?"

She sat for a some time before standing, and Severus could not help but keep his eyes glued to her. But then she finally rose, her tears long since dried on her cheeks. She took two steps away from the tomb, then turned back.

"Thanks for listening, Severus," she said, and then she kissed her fingers and placed them on his tomb before turning once more and fading into the fog beyond his vision.

Hermione returned each day after that. At first he was sure she was just a vision, a way for his mind to torture him with the memories he had left behind. But then she began to speak more about herself, about Weasley and Potter, about her own experiences in the war, and Severus decided, however impossible it seemed, that it was really her.

Though three stories down, her voice travelled to him as though he was next to her. It was less haughty than in her youth, her tone fruity and pleasant.

At the beginning, Severus would lie on the floor and listen to her, but eventually he began to sit at the window and watch her as she spoke to him. She would usually sit against his tombstone or lie in the grass, staring at the sky, her bare legs long in the green lawn below. She looked very different than he remembered her as a student: her face had narrowed slightly, she had a more womanly shape, and she seemed to hold herself more elegantly. If he had been forced, he would say she was quite pretty.

The Weasley boy clearly had no idea what he had, bumbling like a fool as he tried to woo her.

"He gave me a book of cleaning spells," she hissed one day, clearly irritated. "Cleaning spells! I mean, I know he thought it was helpful, since I am helping to repair the castle, but cleaning spells? What does he think Professor McGonagal has me doing, dusting? His note said he 'hoped it would help now and in the future.' Does he expect me to wait on him as his dutiful housewife after the castle is finished?"

The thought of Hermione stuck cooking and cleaning, locked in a tiny rundown house waiting for Weasley made Severus surprisingly angry. Not that he believed she would allow that. Yet he cursed Weasley for not doing more to support her, for not pushing her to be the brilliant witch she could be.

He'd found her an irritating know-it-all as a child, always hopping up and down with her hand in the air, but there was no denying it: Hermione was a talented and intelligent witch, perhaps the best of all his students. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone—not that he _could_ admit that to anyone in Limbo.

"We still haven't…" she paused, looked around, and then lowered her voice. "Well, we haven't done _it_ yet—you know, sex."

Severus blinked. Hard.

"It's not that we haven't done other things, sort of. I mean, he was clearly into it and wanted to go farther, but, well, I just felt a bit weird," she finished her thought in a rush.

Severus groaned._ Why is she telling me this? _His mind answered for him: _In her view, she's speaking to hunk of marble and a drying corpse._

He wondered absently how long his body would last with his soul in Limbo. Two months or three, perhaps, before his magic would start to weaken and the decay would set in. How long had he been here now? He tried to count, but was interrupted by her speaking again.

"I just can't imagine having sex with him, for some reason. Though I suppose there's no harm in waiting. But a year ago I thought I'd want to right away. But now, after everything that happened… when he left in the forest… and when I got back from Australia…"

Hermione sighed and picked at the blades of grass by her feet.

"Ron says I shouldn't bother going back for my seventh year, that I should come be an Auror with him and Harry. But I'm so sick of fighting, of thinking about Voldemort and Death Eaters and dark wizards all the time…"

Severus felt a lurch in his chest as she said 'Death Eaters.'

"…and if I don't finish my NEWTS, what chance will I have if I change my mind?"

_I will teach you_. _I could teach you more than Hogwarts ever could._ Though he supposed that wasn't actually true, being practically dead and all.

"Oh, Severus, I thought the war was complicated, but at least we had just one goal. It all seems so crazy now, thinking about the future. I feel like I'm taking an exam I never studied for—it's awful! But it will work out in the end, won't it?"

Severus understood her too well. How did you move on after losing so many you knew, those you loved? He'd never managed to do it. Fighting was easier. But then, he'd always known that Voldemort would return, that he would probably die when he did. And he'd been right, hadn't he? Moving on and doing something besides spy and fight had never truly seemed like an option—it all seemed to good for a person like him.

Severus sighed as he looked out the window. Hermione was looking up at the sky, her face illuminated in the moonlight, the bright orb barely visible in his narrow slice of midnight sky. He had to admit it: she was lovely. She knew more than most how unfair life was, how cruel and terrible it could be, and yet she remained so open. In the past he would have scorned her dreadfully for her naivety, for making herself vulnerable, but now he wasn't sure it wasn't admirable, after all she'd been through, to still have faith and trust in people, to want to move on. It was something he'd never been capable of.

He wondered, if things had gone differently for him, if he could ever have had such hope, such a strong belief inside him besides bitterness and grief.

He heard a shuffling noise as Hermione lifted herself from the ground. "Well, I should go back to the castle. Goodnight, Severus," said Hermione, pressing her fingers to her mouth and touching them on the grave as she always did.

As she did so, Severus found himself kissing his own long fingers, touching them to the glass, wondering if she could ever take him soaring through her bright blue sky.


	9. Chapter 9: Friends and Enemies

**Chapter 9: Friends and Enemies**

Hermione sat in the Slytherin common room on a dark green leather chesterfield next to a sixth-year Severus Snape. He was staring glumly at a book of Charms in his lap, but didn't seem to be reading it as his eyes stared unfocused on the page, his curved lips curled into a frown.

"You're not still moping about that Mudblood bitch, are you, Severus?" said a deep voice, which caused Snape's head to turn. Hermione looked to see a tall, dark-haired wizard about the same age as Severus striding towards him. She recognized him as a young Macnair and scowled deeply.

"No, and she—,"

"I mean, I can see why you'd like to fuck her—body like that," interrupted Macnair, flopping down on Severus's other side, "but there's better witches out there, yeah? Little Mudblood isn't worth moping over for months, even if she is a hot piece of ass."

Hermione watched Severus's knuckles whiten around the edges of his book, and he glared coldly at his friend. "I was not thinking about her," he spat. "I was thinking about Transfiguration this morning. You do know we were supposed to be turning the toads into trumpets, not tearing them to pieces?"

"Wand slipped," Macnair grinned, and Severus sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, a good shag will set you right, if you ask me," Macnair continued, undeterred. "What about Dianne in fourth year? She's got nice tits." He pointed to a pretty blonde girl sitting in the corner, who was chatting with three other Slytherin girls. She _did_ have rather large breasts, thought Hermione, who looked at her own chest and was glad that at least she could be certain that Ron wasn't interested in her for her bra size.

Severus shifted in his seat. "Do you only ever think about sex?" he sneered.

"Not all the time. I think about hurting things too," said the boy with a dark grin. "I can't believe they won't let us learn the Cruciatus Curse. Bloody Dumbledore docked me five points just for asking about it! My cousin says they teach it at Durmstrang."

"There's other spells besides Cruciatus," said Severus darkly.

"But wouldn't you like to Crucio those scum-loving lions?" asked Macnair. The corners of Severus's mouth twitched into a half-smile, which surprised Hermione. He didn't say so, but Hermione knew he was thinking about four particular Gryffindors at that moment. His eyes shone menacingly as he closed the book in his lap.

"Just wait until the Dark Lord comes to power, we'll set them straight!" whispered Macnair with fervour, and then let out a loud bark of a laugh and punched Severus in the arm, causing the four girls in the corner to turn around and glare at him.

"Sick bastard," muttered Hermione. The more she learned about Macnair, the more she disliked him; she thought Lily had summed him up quite nicely—evil.

Severus rubbed his arm and lowered his voice so it was barely audible. "Are you going to the gathering on Saturday?"

"Of course," whispered Macnair. "How are you going to get there? Sneak out?"

Severus shook his head, scowling. "Lucius gave me a portkey."

The memory shifted and Hermione now found herself in the wood panelled hallway of an old manor house. Severus was beside her, shoving something in his pocket as Macnair grinned beside him.

A much younger Lucius Malfoy—though there was no mistaking it was him with his blonde locks, grey eyes and self-important carriage—stepped towards them, shaking hands with the boys.

"Good to see you both. The gathering is this way," he said smugly, motioning for them to follow him down the wide hall, which was lined with moving portraits in gold gilded frames. Hermione followed the trio as they turned down several long corridors, before finally stepping through a set of double doors into a grand room, which was filled with people.

There was a break in the crowd, and Tom Riddle glided towards them. "Ah, Severus, Waldon, so nice of you to join us," he spoke in a charming voice.

Hermione was surprised at how normal Voldemort looked; his nose hadn't yet turned into flat slits, his eyes weren't entirely red (though the brown irises of his youth did have a faintly burgundy tinge to them), and he wasn't nearly so pale.

"Come in, come in," he said, his dark eyes glittering. He put an arm around Severus's shoulders, guiding him away from his friends. "I hear you've been having trouble with a Mudblood, Severus."

"No trouble, My Lord," spoke Severus carefully, his face expressionless except for his eyes, which looked both nervous and enthralled with the dark wizard. "I called her a Mudblood, and now she will not speak to me."

Riddle laughed, high and cold. "Do not blame yourself, Severus," he said with a wave of his hand. "It is good you told her plainly what she is. I promise you, when we come to power, she and the rest of her kind will realize their mistakes."

"I hope so, My Lord," said Severus earnestly.

"Don't fear, Severus. Stick with me, and I promise we'll have your little Mudblood begging for you," hissed Riddle, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Severus nodded earnestly, his dark eyes full of desire and greed. Hermione frowned, thinking Severus must not understand the true meaning behind Voldemort's words.

"Come, come, let me introduce you to Miss Bletchley," said Riddle, pulling Severus back into the crowd. "She is from a good wizarding family, Severus, all loyal to the cause. She would be a good match for you."

"Yes, My Lord," said Severus nervously. Witches and wizards, some Hermione recognized and many she did not, parted before them as they made their way across the room, stopping in front of a a young witch with a chestnut bob, a small nose, and large blue eyes.

"Miss Bletchley," drawled Voldemort, drawing Severus forward by his shoulder, "this is the wizard I wanted to introduce you to. Meet Severus Snape. Severus, this is Lucy Bletchley. I'll leave you two to get acquainted." With a devilish smile, Voldemort glided off into the crowd once more, leaving Severus standing awkwardly in front of the smiling witch.

"Hello, Severus," said the girl with a smile, sticking out her hand. "You're in Slytherin, sixth year, right?"

"Yes, that's right," Severus answered, taking her hand somewhat limply, his face one of polite disinterest. "I didn't realize Hufflepuffs would be here."

Lucy's eyes narrowed at his comment. "Is that a problem?" she asked coldly.

"Not at all. I just didn't realize people like you would be interested in this sort of thing," said Severus.

"Well, I'm happy to surprise you, then—oh, my friend just came in. See you, Severus, nice to meet you," she said in a clear attempt to brush him off, and stepped around him into the growing throng of people.

Severus didn't seem to care that she'd left, and stalked over to the wall, leaning against the dark paneling as he surveyed the room with a glare and his arms over his chest. After a few minutes, Lucius Malfoy approached him once more, giving him a haughty smile.

"One of these days, I will teach you how to enjoy a party," said Lucius, making Severus glower.

"Unlikely, Lucius," he said dully.

"Really, Severus, if I didn't know you better I'd say you didn't want to be here," said Lucius, taking the wall on Severus's left and drawing his hand through his blonde locks.

"Quite the opposite," said Severus. "I look forward to hearing what the Dark Lord has to say."

"His speeches are rather invigorating, are they not?" said Lucius. "We are lucky to have such a man to lead us. We have needed someone like him to come forward for a long time. He seems to have taken a liking to you, Severus, which I am glad for. I knew you would do well in our group."

"Thank you, Lucius," said Severus with a bow of his head, looking sincere.

"Ah, it looks like he is getting ready to speak now," said Lucius, standing up. "We should move to the front."

Lucius stepped forward, making his way through the crowd with the air of royalty, Severus stalking along in his wake. As they approached the front of the room, Hermione could see that Voldemort had levitated himself above the witches and wizards so he was floating six feet above the floor. He smiled as Lucius and Severus approached, his dark eyes glittering with pride and power, and then waved his wand to his throat.

"Quiet please, everyone!" he began, his charming voice booming loudly over the sea of heads, and the room quieted instantly as everyone turned to face the Dark Lord.

"Thank you all for coming tonight. I am so pleased to see so many gathered here. It is important, in these times, that we come together. We need to be strong against the threats to our wizarding world, which grow steadily every day.

"Of course, I am speaking of the Muggle threat. Since 1689 wizards have been forced into hiding, as if our magic is something to be ashamed of. Yet it is Muggles who should be ashamed, for their viciousness and vulgarity!

"Why should we, the more powerful race, live in secrecy and fear? Have we not proven ourselves more capable, more just than the Muggles and their filthy spawn who would see us beaten down like slaves?"

A great cheer went through the crowd at this question, and Riddle's voice climbed higher, more impassioned as he continued to speak.

"If we continue to hide, continue to grovel to the Muggles and adopt their ways, the dissolution and destruction of our way of life is guaranteed. We should have risen up against them in 1689, but it is not too late! We must rise up against the Muggle threat! We can reclaim our proper place in the order of the world! We can be proud and in control once more!"

Another cheer erupted, and Hermione glanced at Severus, who was hanging silently on Riddle's every word. Unlike in his memories at home or at Hogwarts, where he often seemed wary and defeated, he was standing proudly, his shoulders squared and his jaw tight, and Hermione could see hints of the severe, confident man he would become.

Riddle waved his hands, motioning for the crowd to quiet, before continuing.

"Your faith and excitement gladdens me so! I feel privileged to lead you all. Continue to follow me, and you will be greatly rewarded for your work and loyalty to the cause, not only by myself, but by the great future for wizard kind that is promised when we succeed. My brothers and sisters, we fight for an honourable and noble cause! Abandon us, and you are no better than the Muggle scum who hope to wipe out our villages and our magic!

"The choice lies in your hands, in your wands. Join me, and choose a great future for those of true wizard blood! We fight for the future of the wizarding race!"

With that, Voldemort lifted his wand into the air, casting his great green skull and snake over the panelled ceiling. The room exploded into shouts and cheers, and wands were raised in unison before him, some sending green sparks and shimmering translucent snakes into the air, which slithered around Voldemort's Dark Mark.

Severus sent his own snake into the air as Lucius shouted "to the Dark Lord!" as Riddle smiled serenely down at them, and then the memory began to fade until all Hermione could see was grey.

Hermione sucked in a breath as she lifted herself out of the pensieve, Severus's memories still floating through her mind. Hermione had watched several Death Eater gatherings from when Severus was still at Hogwarts, and was surprised to see just how gracious and charming the younger Lord Voldemort had been. He certainly didn't seem like the psychopathic killer she knew—the ideas he espoused were sickening to her, yes, but they were padded in nicer language and he was not yet as cruel and sadistic as he would become.

Using her wand, she prodded the surface of the pensive and nudged the memory between several others that appeared related. With the help of a book from the restricted section of the library (McGonagal had happily given her permission to use it), she'd figured out how to organize the memories. Most she logged chronologically, but the few she thought useful to help restore Severus's reputation she set aside in clearly labelled bottles which sat next to a large stack of notes.

She added several more lines about the latest memory to a sheet of parchment, and then took another bottle out of the large box and tipped the silvery stream into the basin, watching it swirl as she placed the empty bottle to the side. She stretched out her back before leaning forward once more into the pool, feeling the now familiar tug as she was pulled into another memory.

This time Hermione found herself in the Hogwarts' courtyard, sitting on a stone bench next to an even younger Severus, who was—as he often was—reading a book. Hermione smiled a little to know they had that common. From her experience in Severus's classroom, she always had the impression the man valued intellect and skill above the written word, but it was clear from his memories that he devoured books as quickly and often as she did.

As Severus sat entranced in his tome, two boys trotted out the doors from the Entrance Hall, laughing and pushing each other playfully. One had messy dark hair and glasses, the other long haired and wildly handsome; Hermione recognized them both instantly as James and Sirius. Sirius poked James and pointed at Severus, who was oblivious to his two enemies approaching him.

James grinned and shouted "Hey, Snivellus!" as he pulled out his wand.

Hermione watched as Severus's school bag flew into the air and his book was ripped from his hands. Severus jumped up in shock, trying to grab his things, but they were out of his reach. The bag tipped over in the air above the Slytherin, and he covered his head with his arms as his belongings spilled over him and onto the ground.

Sirius flicked his wand and several books began flying in circles out of reach above Severus, occasionally swooping quickly down and smacking him in the back of the head.

"Books don't seem so friendly now do they!" laughed James. His voice was comical, as if he was watching a funny movie, not torturing the young Slytherin.

After being struck in the head for the sixth time, Severus snapped. His reflexes were fast, and he stunned Sirius and cast Levicorpus on James before either of the boys could react.

"You fucking tossers!" he spat. "Leave me alone!"

At that moment, Professor Flitwick came into the courtyard. "Mr. Snape!" he squeaked. "Let Mr. Potter go immediately!"

What little colour there was drained from Severus's face. He gritted his teeth and did as he was told, letting James fall to the ground with a thud.

"Finite Incantatum," said Flitwick, and Sirius began to stir next to James. "I can see you weren't entirely unprovoked," said Flitwick to Severus, staring at his things scattered about courtyard, "but this is unacceptable behaviour! Ten points from Slytherin and detention."

Severus glared at the tiny Professor as James and Sirius sniggered behind him.

"As for you two," said Flitwick, looking at James and Sirius, who immediately went quiet and began brushing themselves off, "ten points each from Gryffindor. Now I suggest you return to your common room."

"Nice spell, Snivvelus—might use that one later," whispered James as he brushed past the Slytherin. The two Gryffindors turned to glare at Severus once more before opening the doors and making their way back into the Entrance Hall. Flitwick appeared oblivious to the threat.

"Get your things, Mr. Snape, and you should also return to your common room," said Flitwick. "My office at seven o'clock for detention this evening."

"Yes, Professor," grumbled Severus, who gently picked up his copy of _Advanced Potion Making_, brushing dirt from the cover. Hermione could see he was shaking with rage as he gathered his things, shoving them angrily into his bag.

This was not the first memory Hermione had watched of Severus being bullied by the Marauders. It didn't take many for Hermione to understand why Severus had hated James and Sirius so much, but she also agreed with Lily that he had made it worse by reacting the way he did.

Hermione wondered if the Hogwarts staff knew the extent to which Severus was tormented beyond the incident in the Shrieking Shack with Remus, and thought they must not. This was the only memory thus far in which a staff member had come across them, and Hermione felt a little sorry for Severus that Flitwick had not come sooner—before he'd lifted James into the air with his wand. Severus very rarely started the fights between the boys, and yet always seemed to get the short end of the wand.

Hermione sighed as she pulled herself out of the bowl, then pushed the memory between several others of Severus being bullied and spending time with Lily at Hogwarts. She rubbed her eyes, feeling a bit tired, and decided she'd had enough for the day.

She stood up from her place at the table in the middle of the headmaster's quarters (the pensieve had been moved up to the room so that Hermione could have privacy while she looked at them, and so that McGonagal could work undisturbed in her office). Hermione carefully jotted down a few notes, then made her way down the stairs to McGonagal's office.

"Have you been up there all this time, Miss Granger?" asked the headmistress, looking at the clock. "You should have left hours ago. Don't work yourself too hard—you need to rest."

"Don't worry, I get plenty of rest," Hermione said, knowing she was lying again, but too tired to care. McGonagal had enough to do without having to play counsellor to her former student. Besides, there was someone else she liked to talk to now.

"See you tomorrow, Professor," said Hermione, waving goodbye.

"Good night, dear," said McGonagal.

Hermione made her way out of the tower. In the operations room, she grabbed a slice of ham and some salad and shoved them into a bread roll, waving at Neville before escaping back out into the hall and outside into the cool evening air.

Heading down to Severus's grave had become a bit of routine for her over the last few weeks. She found she enjoyed speaking her thoughts out loud. Even though logically she knew no one could hear them, it made her feel better somehow. She thought, maybe, that her nightmares had gotten slightly better since she began visiting the grave and speaking her thoughts. She still had them most nights, but they disturbed her a little less.

She ate her sandwich as she walked down the hill and around the lake towards Severus's grave, which stood near Dumbledore's at the edge of the lake. She slumped down against its back side, the black marble warm against her back from the summer sun, which was just beginning to dip below the tall trees of the Forbidden Forest.

"James and Sirius were quite the bastards to you again today," started Hermione, thinking back to the last memory she had watched in the pensieve. "You shouldn't have fought back though. I guess that's how they learned Levicorpus, huh?"

She sighed and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Hermione knew full well what it was like to be bullied. Draco had never exactly been kind to her or her friends (and even then, she had been shocked with herself for losing her temper and punching him in third year); but she'd gotten it worse in primary school. Even Harry and Ron had been mean to her at the start.

"Too bad no one ever set a mountain troll loose in the school while you were at Hogwarts; you might have ended up with better friends," Hermione chuckled.

"I don't understand how you could hang out with that Macnair. Could he be any more sadistic or perverted? It's no wonder he ended up a Death Eater. I bet he got off torturing people. I only hope no one was daft enough to ever go out with him." Hermione shuddered at the thought. "I suppose it doesn't matter now that he's in Azkaban."

Hermione paused, thinking back to Severus sitting calmly, reading in the entrance courtyard.

"Maybe if we'd been the same age, we could have been friends; not that we'd have talked much—we'd've spent all our time reading," said Hermione, smiling. "At least I wouldn't have had to do your homework.

"Do you think you would have liked me? You weren't fond of me as a student, obviously, but maybe if we were both students it would have been different. You already had one Gryffindor friend. Maybe another would have kept you from the Death Eaters?" Hermione turned her head to the side and smiled at the dark stone. "But I guess then we'd all be dead and under Voldemort's control, or maybe still fighting…"

Hermione sighed and looked up at the sky, where stars were beginning to pop into existence, little diamonds scattered over velvety midnight, and a calmness came over her.

"Things work out the way they're supposed to, I guess. Though, I think you would have made a good friend…"


	10. Chapter 10: Moving On

A/N: I wanted to say thank you for all those who have left reviews. I may not get to reply to them all, but I do read them all and appreciate them! Please keep them coming.

Also, just to answer a question that's come up: in my mind, considering how long Hermione and Ron obviously liked each other in the books, and the fact that they were "sort of" together since the summer of 1997 (per DH), Hermione would have thought about being with and being sexual with Ron long before they became "official" during the Battle of Hogwarts. So, keep that in mind as you continue to read.

Now that we have that cleared up, on we go to the next chapter. I hope you enjoy. We're getting close now to some significant jumps forward.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10: Moving On<strong>

Severus was sitting on the potions bench closest to the window, rubbing his temples. He'd started to feel light headed, and wondered if his magic might be wearing thin in his body. If it was, he'd need to make a decision soon, or resign himself to death by inaction.

It didn't seem likely that he would be able to decide: once or twice a day he'd think he had an answer and would stride confidently towards one of the doors, only to turn on his heels at the last moment and collapse back onto a bench in the centre of the room.

His only reprieve was when Hermione would visit him each day. He thought he would get tired of listening to her at first, but now he waited in anticipation for the sound of her voice, the sight of her on the grass below.

Normally she came when the sky was dark, but sometimes—on what he only assumed could be weekends—she came during the day and stayed a bit longer with him. Most times she would talk, but sometimes she would simply lie in the grass, staring at the sky or at the lake.

He'd been able to count time since she'd started visiting. It had been almost four weeks. He guessed he'd been here about six weeks in total now. No, he didn't have much longer before his body gave out on him.

Severus heard Hermione greet him with an, "I'm back, Severus. Did you miss me?" and he stood up suddenly; the motion made his vision swim, and he was careful as he moved to the window to see her better.

She stretched as she came to a stop before the lake, her hands raised above her as she closed her eyes against the setting sun, which illuminated her face in red and gold. Severus thought she looked like a phoenix stretching its wings.

Smiling slightly, he rested his forehead against the window pane as Hermione stretched out on the grass below him. Lying parallel to the gravestone, she turned her head to look at it, touching it with her left hand.

"You met with the Dark Lord today," she said softly, her face growing suddenly sad. "It must have been the night he came back."

Severus closed his eyes. He remembered the night well. Just like Karkaroff and Lucius, he'd known that Voldemort was growing stronger as the mark darkened on his arm like an omen of what was to come. So on the night Cedric Diggory had died, and Dumbledore had asked him to leave, he knew what he had to do.

"Did you know he'd be so angry when you arrived? Did you expect to get tortured?" Hermione asked, running her index finger back and forth over the stone.

"It was always a strong possibility," Severus answered, knowing full well she could not hear him, but preferring to answer her with his voice. It seemed more like a conversation than eavesdropping that way. Besides, it wasn't as if there was anyone else to speak to in Limbo—not since Lily had disappeared shortly after he arrived.

He recalled the bitterness and cold that swept over him as he donned his Death Eater mask that he had not worn in over 14 years. But he'd sworn to do whatever he could to fight the monster that stole Lily away from the world, and so he'd pushed every emotion behind the impenetrable walls he'd built in his mind and touched his mark with his wand.

He was pulled to a graveyard to find chaos in progress. The Dark Lord had been mad, so very mad that Harry Potter had escaped him once again. He was interrogating each of his Death Eaters, hurting them when he did not hear what he wanted.

When Severus arrived, Voldemort's red eyes locked on him instantly, and he'd dropped the curse on Dolohov, who stayed bowed at his feet.

"Severus, so nice of you to join us," the Dark Lord hissed. "You're quite tardy."

"My deepest apologies, My Lord," said Severus, dropping to his knees and averting his eyes from the snake-like face that loomed over him. "I was at Hogwarts, and could not get away without Dumbledore noticing."

"Yes, I hear you still retain the post I put you in so many years ago," said Voldemort. "I also hear you have gone as soft as the old man, protecting the boy, Harry Potter."

"I have been loyal to you the whole time, My Lord. I have continued to gather information, to build Dumbledore's trust in me so that I would be of use to you when you returned," said Severus.

"Stand up, Severus," said Voldemort, and Severus did as he was commanded. He kept his face passive as he stared at the slitted red eyes of the Dark Lark.

"I tried to return four years ago, Severus, right there at your school, and I do remember you trying to stop me," Voldemort hissed, and Severus could tell he was as close to death as he'd ever been.

"A grave mistake, My Lord. I did not realize it was you. If you had shown yourself to me, I would have done my best to help you in any way I could. As it was, I believed myself to be only against Quirrell," he said, forcing himself to hold the Dark Lord's gaze as he spoke. "There is a benefit though, as I now have Dumbledore's complete trust. He tells me his secrets."

"Dumbledore's secrets?" said Voldemort, his face twisting greedily. "Oh, you will tell me all his secrets, Severus. But first, I think, a little reminder of your mistakes, and why you will not fail me again."

Voldemort raised his wand, and Severus steeled himself for what he knew was to come.

"Crucio." The Dark Lord sounded almost bored as he said the word, but the pain was almost overwhelming, dropping Severus to the ground. As he writhed against the dirt and grass, he focused only on keeping his mind blank and not passing out from the pain.

"I don't know how you didn't scream," said Hermione, interrupting Severus's memory, and he watched as she closed her eyes and pressed her brows together. "When Bellatrix… it felt like every cell in my body was on fire and trying to free itself from my skin. I couldn't help but scream."

"I am so sorry I could not protect you," said Severus, wondering if could ever forgive himself for all those he had allowed to be hurt or killed.

"I don't know how you did it, how you could face him knowing what was to come. You were so brave," said Hermione, touching her forehead to the grave next to her hand. "Did you hate Dumbledore when he asked you to tell Harry about everything, once you knew his plan?"

"A small part of me did," admitted Severus. "But I could see that there was nothing else to be done, if Voldemort was to die. And if he didn't…" No, Voldemort winning the war was not something he wanted to contemplate, then or now.

But the boy… for everything he had done, sending the boy to his death had been the worst, the hardest thing he had been forced to do as a spy.

"I'm not sure I can forgive Dumbledore," said Hermione softly. "Harry does, of course, but I'm just not sure. I can't help but think he used us all in the end to get what he wanted, and felt no remorse about it. I can't fault the outcome, but… what if Harry hadn't come back?"

Tears spilled from her eyes once more, and Severus felt a terrible pain in his chest that he could not comfort her. Instead, he watched solemnly from his window until she became quiet, and began speaking once again.

"Why did you never move on after Lily?" she asked, rolling onto her back. "I've been thinking about it for a while. You had what, 13 or 14 years in between the wars? Most people would have at least tried to find someone else."

"I am not most people," said Severus bluntly.

"There was another memory today, and it looked like Professor Sinistra was flirting with you, but you never gave her the time of day, did you?" continued Hermione.

Severus shuddered, remembering the witch teasing him in front of their colleagues at staff meetings, giving him flirtatious glances in the Great Hall, and asking him to The Three Broomsticks on every Hogsmeade weekend for a whole year—he'd always declined. The whole ordeal had infuriated him.

Truth be told, at the time he didn't think his heart was capable of loving anyone other than Lily, but now he wondered if he simply hadn't met the right woman. Perhaps if Hermione hadn't been his student, like she'd said yesterday…

Severus shook his head, admonishing himself for such a thought. No, even if he had met a better woman than Sinistra then, he never would have pursued her. It would have been too dangerous. He refused to love again because he refused to kill another woman he loved. It was better, safer, for everyone if he stayed at a distance—no lovers, no friends.

"I do understand loving someone unrequited for a long time—I thought it would be like that with Ron until ten months ago," said Hermione, her fingers lazily tracing the swirls on the dark marble.

"Do we really need to talk about the red-haired dunderhead again?" Severus muttered. Weeks of Hermione talking about Ronald Weasley and their relationship had done nothing to improve his opinion of the boy.

"I'm not sure if reality quite lives up to the fantasy, though," she said, her mouth forming a firm line. "Maybe you were lucky that things didn't work out in that way. I mean, I know it was really awful for you at the time…"

"Such eloquence," mumbled Severus, rolling his eyes.

"… but at least you never got together and then realized things wouldn't work. That way there was always a chance. At least until she died," finished Hermione, her voice trailing off.

"I'm sorry, it's not the same at all is it?" Hermione laughed and shook her head. "Look at me, pouting about things not being perfect with Ron when your true love married your bully and then was killed by a psychopath!"

"Thank you once again for the reminder," grumbled Severus as Hermione continued to admonish herself below him.

"I know I'm lucky to have Ron. We argue and he can be a bit insensitive, but he says he loves me, and that's what counts, right?"

"If love was all that mattered in a mate, Lily would have chosen me and not James," said Severus plainly. "Clearly there is much more that counts."

Hermione was quiet for some time, lost in her thoughts. The sun had long since set and she was staring up at the star-filled sky, which Severus could only see a tiny sliver of through the windows. He wondered what she was thinking about as he continued to watch her from his perch above, but it was some time before she obliged him.

"It's funny. I know I'm not really talking to you, Severus, but for some reason I feel like you can hear me," she said eventually, her eyes still pointed skyward. "Maybe it's because of your memories—well it must be, I suppose. I know it's stupid and probably my mind tricking me, but I feel close to you.

"I wish I could see you—not in a memory or a photo but really see you."

Severus felt his heart leap in his chest as if it was trying to escape, and he clutched it with his hand, wondering if it was finally giving out on him. He breathed hard, but remained sitting at the windows in Limbo.

_Just a palpitation_. _You still have time._

"I know you probably died thinking everyone hated you and thought you were a traitor," Hermione was saying below him. "I wish I had the chance to prove you wrong. Harry's doing everything he can to restore your reputation at the Ministry, you know, and I'm helping. Most people know now that you were a spy for our side and think you're a hero. I wish I could tell you how much we all appreciate what you did.

"I'm sure you'd hate it, everyone knowing about your secrets," chuckled Hermione.

"Astute as always," said Severus, frowning and rubbing his check with the base of his palm.

So most people knew about his double-role and thought he was a hero. He knew that if he was alive, things would likely not be so easy. Forgiveness always seemed such a fickle thing to him. Would people be so quick to acquit him of wrongdoing if they saw the mark on his arm, heard the voice that had cut them down so often out of necessity?

"Harry and I didn't tell everyone about Lily, though," said Hermione.

Severus was surprised at that comment. But perhaps the boy was embarrassed that his cruel ex-professor had been in love with his mother all those years and wanted to keep it to himself. But what was the reason for Hermione to keep his secrets?

"If you're there with her—Lily I mean—can you tell her that Harry is okay? He still has nightmares sometimes, I think, but overall he's doing really well. He's really excited about becoming an Auror."

"If she comes back, I'll tell her," promised Severus.

Hermione rolled over onto her side once more, facing the black marble. She kissed her fingers and placed them against the stone, leaving her hand against it.

"You're a good man, Severus Snape."

_Fucking heart, hang on a little longer,_ he prayed, feeling it pounding in his chest.


	11. Chapter 11: Breaking Point

A/N: This is a longer chapter, but I didn't want to split this up as we are at a bit of turning point. There's some strong citrus scent at the beginning of this chapter as well (things will be getting a bit more lemony fresh starting now, meaning that M warning is still firmly in place). Thanks as always for the reviews.

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><p><strong>Chapter 11: Breaking Point<strong>

Hermione ran through the forest, footsteps following closely behind her. Her chest was full of terror, her lungs gasping painfully as she forced the cold air down her throat and willed her burning legs to keep running.

"Come here, little one, it will only hurt a little!" cackled Bellatrix from behind her, as a spell shot by Hermione's ear and hit a tree, which exploded into dust.

Then Bellatrix was on top of her, eyes wild and mouth twisted into an evil grin. The witch drooled into her face, cackling, her words coming fast and high, wand held against Hermione's jugular. "Got you!"

Hermione felt blood running down her neck as she screamed, and then suddenly she was in the Shrieking Shack, watching blood and silver drain from the drooping body of Severus Snape.

"No, no!" She yelled, running to him and trying desperately to think of something to save him as he clung to her robes, but she could think of nothing. The terrible burn of hopelessness and guilt rose in her gut like bile.

"Hermione," he gargled, choking on his blood, lifting his hand to her cheek. "Please…"

She stared into his dark eyes, which went suddenly blank, his body falling limply in her arms. "Severus, no! You can't die! Please, stay with me!" she screamed, clinging to his lifeless form.

She awoke with a start, drenched in sweat, tears rolling down her cheeks, her breath coming fast and strong.

Hermione ripped the sheets away from her, making Crookshanks meow in annoyance from his place on the bed, and she sucked in a breath as the cold air hit her damp body.

She was glad to have a private room in Gryffindor Tower for the summer, as she was certain she would have woken up any roommate by now. She had a feeling she sometimes cried out in her sleep.

Getting out of bed, she padded over the the bathroom, filling a glass of water at the sink and gulping it down. She stared at her face in the mirror, dark circles apparent beneath her brown eyes. She wondered if she'd ever get to sleep through a full night again without waking up to nightmares.

Crawling back into bed, she breathed deeply, images of Severus Snape dying in the Shrieking Shack still flitting through her consciousness.

_If only I'd been able to save him. _

But it was impossible. No amount of dittany would have healed his wounds. She wasn't even sure a strong healing spell could have saved him, even if she'd been able to cast it.

_He's gone, Hermione. You can't do anything to bring him back, no matter how much you wish it. _

She knew all too well that wishing things were different didn't make them so.

Eventually, Hermione's nightmare faded, but her thoughts of Severus did not. She no longer thought of him as just her professor (perhaps that's why she had unconsciously started calling him Severus when she visited his grave), but a great man.

Thus far in her search through his silver vials, she had never seen him with another woman—his attention had only ever been on Lily. Her survival and then her death had consumed him, and he'd never let the world know about the goodness inside him after that, aside from Dumbledore. Even so, Severus protected them all to the best of his ability, at great cost and peril to himself.

If he was still alive, would he be protecting them still? Would he find hope, now that the war was over?

She thought of him alive again, and found herself wondering what it would feel like to have Severus hold her, comfort her from her dreams. Though thin, his frame would be solid, she thought, his arms strong. He would wrap her in his black cloak and pull her body against his. She imagined running her fingers through his raven black hair, feeling his warm breath against her temple as she rested her head on his shoulder, and a warm pool of desire began to build in her gut.

_What am I thinking? This is Severus Snape!_

_Yes, Severus, who saved your life more than once. The brilliant, mysterious spy. The eternally loyal friend. The one you've been imagining yourself speaking to for weeks. The one you've secretly wished could speak back. _

Severus's face formed above her own in her mind as she lay in bed, his bottomless ebony eyes staring into hers as if they could see her every thought. With his large, hooked nose, he was not traditionally good looking, but he was handsome in his own way, with his brooding eyes, curved lips, and strong jaw.

How would he touch her? Surely, he would have deft hands from brewing potions. His long, elegant fingers would run over her jaw as he whispered her name with his deep, silken voice. His lips would be firm but gentle as he kissed her.

She imagined his hands gliding down her body, teasing her nipples, and as she did she moved her own hand, pinching a pebbled nipple, the other reaching down her body. It snuck beneath the waist of her pajama bottoms and her fingers slipped between her soft lower lips, finding herself warm and wet and throbbing, and she let out a ragged breath as she began pleasuring herself, her index finger flicking expertly at her clit.

Severus appeared in full above her, his dark robes enveloping her naked body as he kissed her throat, her breasts, running his tongue roughly over one nipple, then the other.

"Severus," she whispered, pressing her button harder, and their clothes disappeared in her mind, his thin body balanced above hers as he kissed her mouth, whispered her name.

As she imagined what would he would feel like inside her, she dipped her fingers into her opening a few times, then returned to pressing at her clit. Her breath stuttered as she pictured Severus grinding into her passionately, her legs wrapped around his waist and her hips bucking upwards to meet his thrusts.

She moaned softly as she climaxed, feeling the explosion of pleasure in her groin, warm tendrils of electricity spreading outwards as she shuddered beneath her hand.

She let her breath quiet, her mind calm as her orgasm dissipated, filling her with a sense of relaxation.

_Oh dear,_ she thought with a soft smile before drifting back to sleep, _I think I may be falling for a dead man._

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><p>She tried to wipe the previous night's activities from her mind the next morning, which was Saturday. She was scheduled to spend the weekend at The Burrow to celebrate Harry and Ron beginning Auror training; she'd officially turned down the position the week previously, though she was not yet sure what else she wanted to do.<p>

She felt a little guilty, imagining what Ron would say if he knew she had been fantasizing about Severus, or as he still preferred to call him despite all the evidence contrary, "the greasy git." She brushed it from her mind, determined not to think about it, and got dressed and made her way out of Gryffindor Tower.

With Voldemort dead and most of the Death Eaters either deceased or in Azkaban, the Weasleys were free to move back into their home in Ottery St. Catchpole. Hermione Apparated from Hogsmeade to the lane in front of the ramshackle home, happy to see it looking as it always had.

Molly and Ginny were in the kitchen drinking tea when she arrived.

"Hermione!" Ginny shouted as she entered, hugging her.

"Hermione, dear, so pleased to see you," Molly said, embracing her also. "How's Hogwarts? Everything coming back together?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione smiled, "the restoration is going well. The Great Hall was completed yesterday."

"Excellent," said Ginny. "It better be ready for my seventh year." Then, looking a bit embarrassed, she added, "Sorry we aren't helping."

Hermione smiled. "No worries, Ginny. You guys have enough on your plates." She didn't mention Fred, his funeral, the space that Ron and Ginny said was missing from their normally warm, cozy home. "We're doing fine, honestly," she added before deciding to switch topics. "Where are Harry and Ron?"

"Oh, just upstairs getting things settled, I think, dear," said Molly. "Why don't you and Ginny go upstairs and do the same? You're in Ginny's room as usual."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione, and she and Ginny went upstairs.

As they entered Ginny's room on the first floor, Hermione asked, "How is everyone doing, _really_?"

Ginny's smile faltered. "Getting better, slowly, though George is still in a bit of state," she said with a sigh. "I hear him crying in his room sometimes."

Hermione shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry, Ginny. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

"Of course," said Ginny, brightening. "So, shall we go get our men from upstairs?" She winked and Hermione giggled. Hermione was glad to see her friend again.

The rest of the day was almost like old times, except for the conspicuous absence of Fred, a more subdued George, and the occasional sniffle from Mrs. Weasley. At lunch, Hermione glanced at Molly's infamous clock which once again hung in the kitchen, and noticed Fred's hand was pointed at 'Beyond the Veil.'

After lunch, the two couples went on a walk. Hermione listened quietly while Harry and Ron talked about what they would be learning in Auror training: dark detection spells, defence and tracking, arrest and interrogation techniques, how to testify in court, and more. As she half-listened to Ron complain about how they'd also have to take a course on how to fill out all the paperwork that let them do the rest of their job, Hermione found herself making a decision: she was going to back to Hogwarts to finish her seventh year. She wasn't ready to give up studying and essay writing for paperwork just yet, and it would give her the qualifications necessary to become more than a paper-pusher.

She'd hardly made the decision when Ginny threw her hands in the air and started yelling. "Okay, we get it! You don't want to fill out bloody forms! Can we _please_ go do something else?"

Ron looked startled, Harry chuckling behind him, but they both eagerly agreed when Ginny suggested they might play Quidditch. Used to being left out of Quidditch-related decisions, Hermione followed her friends back to the house to get their brooms. She was going to grab a book from her room to read while she watched them, but upon seeing Mrs. Weasley already labouring over what looked like a gigantic feast, decided to offer her help instead.

"Ron," she said, and he turned around at the bottom of the stairs. "I'm going to stay and help your mum."

"Suit yourself," said Ron, who then ran upstairs to gather his keeper gloves from his room.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather go out with the others?" Molly asked.

"No, flying has never been my forte," said Hermione. "Besides, you look like you could use the help."

"All right then, you can peel these potatoes for me," Molly said with a smile, handing Hermione a large bucket full of brown-skinned spuds.

"Do you have a peeler?" asked Hermione.

"A what?" asked Molly, turning from where she was chopping carrots, looking confused.

"A peeler? To take the skins off the potatoes," Hermione tried again.

"Oh, no, dear, just use a peeling spell," she said with a laugh. "Here, let me show you."

Molly took a potato from the bucket and said the incantation, leaving the potato moist and creamy-white, and then tossed it into a large pot full of water near the stove. As Hermione tried the spell, Ron came back down the stairs with his gloves in hand. Noticing the potato and her wand in her hand, he smiled broadly at her, to which Hermione frowned. Tossing her first peeled potato into the pot, she grabbed the next and found herself rather forcefully ripping the skins from the russet with her wand.

"Not too hard, dear, we want some potatoes left to cook once you're done!" said Molly with a laugh as Ron closed the door behind him.

Hermione had been right about the dinner. Mrs. Weasley had pulled out all the stops, leaving everyone with swollen bellies but feeling very content by the end of the meal. It was very late when everyone finally dispersed from the garden table and went inside. Hermione stayed back, deciding she needed some time alone before joining Ginny upstairs for what would undoubtedly turn into a game of '20 questions about her relationship with Ron.'

Hermione made her way to the back of the garden and sat on a bench. The sky was clear and cloudless, stars glittering in a sea of black, and as she looked up she found herself thinking of Severus again.

Perhaps it was from staring at the night sky so often from his grave, but Severus and the stars were now inextricably linked in her mind. His constellations were a little clearer to her now than when she'd started searching his rooms; she could make out the shapes of a doe, a snake, a warrior, a child, a spy and a heart. Yet there was still so many stars left to uncover, and though his memories often troubled her, she found she looked forward to knowing him a little better each day. Part of her wished she could find his North Star and follow it to somewhere better, somewhere where Severus Snape still lived and she still had her parents love.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice Ron come up beside her until he draped his arm across her shoulders, and she instinctively tensed and pulled away.

"Come on, Hermione," said Ron, putting his arm around her again, and she relented this time. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm just tired. I stayed up late last night looking at Sev—Professor Snape's memories," said Hermione, chuckling in uncertainty, trying to keep her voice light. "I'm sure I'll feel better tomorrow after a good night's sleep."

"I can't believe McGonagal is forcing you to go through the memories of that greasy git," said Ron.

"McGonagal did not _force_ me, Ronald. I agreed. Restoring his reputation was important, and my work is helping put away more Death Eaters too. Harry said the information I was able to provide him really helped at the trial last week," Hermione said sternly.

"I know, 'Mione," said Ron, and Hermione wondered if he'd even listened. "Want to go for a walk?"

Hermione nodded, and they followed the path leading behind the house, garden gnomes scampering out of their way as they walked through the tall grass.

"The stars sure are beautiful tonight, aren't they?" asked Ron. Hermione looked at him sideways, wondering what had inspired him to ponder the stars. But then, she supposed she had been doing the same earlier. He took her hand and they walked a little farther until The Burrow was barely visible except for a few tiny orange windows glowing against the darkness of the hillside, over which the yellow halo of Ottery St. Catchpole was just apparent.

As they reached the edge of the wood beyond the large paddock, Ron stopped beside her.

"Hey, 'Mione, I want to show you something. Will you close your eyes?" he asked nervously.

It was an odd request, Hermione thought, but she obliged, curious about what he might show her. She closed her eyelids so there was only blackness, and heard Ron move away from her side, the swish of his wand in the still night air.

"Okay, you can open them," he said, sounding pleased.

Hermione carefully opened her eyes. Ron had charmed several fireflies to spell out 'R+H,' and she gasped as the letters sparkled in the darkness like fairy lights.

"Oh, Ron, it's beautiful," she said. He'd never really been a romantic, but this was nice. It made her smile.

"I was hoping you'd like it," said Ron, looking proud and bashful at the same time. If she could see his ears properly, she was sure they'd be bright red.

Ron stood in front of her, leaned in, and their lips met. His lips were soft, perhaps a little too eager, and Hermione squashed the urge to pull away as his tongue brushed against her lips, wanting to enjoy the kiss. She opened her mouth and let him linger, his tongue darting sloppily into her mouth.

When their lips broke apart, Ron smiled. Taking her hand, he got down on one knee, and Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

"What are you doing, Ron?" she asked, voicing her question, thinking he was being awfully strange tonight.

From his back pocket, he produced a thin gold ring, and Hermione felt her stomach drop into her legs.

_No, this can__'__t be happening_. _This has to be a joke. George must have put him up this._

The night should have ended with the fireflies and the kiss. Now it was going somewhere she was unprepared for.

"I love you, Hermione," said Ron, confirming her fear, his voice deep and strong as the fireflies reflected in his eyes. "Will you marry me?"

Hermione put a hand over her mouth to stifle a cry and tears began to well in her eyelids. Ron continued to look up her, his blue eyes full of hope and affection.

_No! No! No! _

"I—I'm sorry, Ron," she choked. "I love you too, but, not now. It's too soon. I can't…"

Ron's face turned to stone, and he let go of her hand.

"But you love me," he said quietly, rising to his feet, his fingers still holding the little gold band.

"I know, and I do, but I just can't marry you," Hermione stammered.

"_Why not_?" asked Ron through clenched teeth.

"Because," she paused, panic starting to rise in her chest the same way it had when Bellatrix had asked her about Gryffindor's sword. Except instead of a wand and a dagger, Ron held a ring against her. Her mind raced, trying to think of how to answer his question.

How could she tell him the truth? She couldn't marry him because she felt too broken and confused; because she wasn't sure she loved him the right way; because she wasn't sure she could ever be the doting wife he obviously wanted; because she had no idea what she wanted with her life beyond the walls of Hogwarts. She could not tell him those things, so she told him what she could, what she'd decided only that afternoon: "Because, Ron, I want to finish my seventh year at Hogwarts and… I don't know… maybe in a few years, Ron, but not now. I need more time—our relationship is still so new," she said in a rush.

"It's not new! We've known each other since we were 11!" yelled Ron, his voice cracking slightly. "I know you've wanted me as long as I've wanted you! I thought—I don't understand," he finished suddenly.

Hermione could tell he was trying to force back tears, and she cursed herself for hurting him this way.

"I'm so sorry, Ron," was all she could say.

"Don't be," he snapped. "I can see we don't feel the same way about each other."

"Ron, that's not fair!" yelled Hermione.

"You know what's not fair? Asking the woman you love to marry you and getting turned down!" shouted Ron. "Whatever, Hermione. You don't have to explain it to me. We're over."

"Ron, no!" She reached for his arm, but he pulled it roughly from her grasp.

"Yes, Hermione! Just admit it: you've never really wanted me! So we're over! Go back to your books! Go drown in Snape's memories for all I care!" Ron shouted, and he pushed past her and stormed back towards the house, leaving her alone in the field.

Hermione stared at the fireflies floating happily in the dark space where Ron had once stood, the letters of their names still joined. She had no idea how long she stood there, but finally the letters broke apart, the flies scattering outwards and fading into the night as they were released from the spell, leaving her alone in the darkness.

Without the light, she could only sense tears dribbling down her cheeks, the sound of her breath heaving and catching in her throat as she struggled to breath through her sobs.

_We're over._

_He said we're over._

_We're over and he's gone._

Hermione's legs seemed to give out from under her, and she fell to her knees, her face in her hands.

She didn't understand how this could happen. Things were supposed to be better now that the war was over. She wasn't supposed to lose people anymore. But now Ron was gone in addition to her parents.

_It's not fair._

_It can't be._

She wasn't sure about her relationship with Ron, it was true, but she didn't want it to end like this. She thought they had a chance at happiness together, if she had the time to get to know him longer as a lover.

_But we're over. __We__'__re over!_

Her head felt like a tempest of emotions, crashing over her and pulling her under their weight. She forced herself to breathe, to quell the panic roiling inside her, but it was like swimming against a roiling tide, and she quickly became overwhelmed by it all. The only thing she could think was _run_.

She had to get away. She couldn't be here. Still sobbing, she pulled herself to her feet, gathering herself up in her arms, and Apparated to the first place that entered her mind.

Hermione collapsed in a heap as she landed on a rough wooden floor in a room dark except for streaks of moonlight. She wiped her nose on her sleeve, looking up to find she had appeared in the Shrieking Shack.

She was staring at the spot where Severus had died. She could see the bloodstains on the walls, on the floor, dark brown and slashed with slivers of silver light. A vivid memory filled her: blood and memories pouring out of Severus as he continued to try to save Harry with his last breaths.

She crawled forward on her hands and knees, scraping her fingers on the floor until they reached the dark stain where his head would have lain, and put her cheek to the cold, rough wood. Was it possible she could feel him still? Could he feel her? She clenched her teeth as another sob wracked through her body as she clung to the floor, unwilling to believe yet another person she loved was gone.

The tempest reared within her once again until her mind screamed: _What are you doing? Get back to the castle! _

Willing herself to rise, she wiped her eyes with her sleeves, took out her wand, and proceeded to the secret passage that would lead her back to the castle grounds.

"Lumos," she squeaked, and her wand lit up brightly, leading the way as she continued to choke and sob down the narrow tunnel.

Emerging from beneath the Whomping Willow, she began to make her way towards the castle when her feet suddenly changed direction, taking her past the entrance doors and around the lake.

Blindly she stumbled to Severus's tomb, drawn by some invisible force inside her. Perhaps because it was the only thing that had given her comfort over the past months. Perhaps because he was the only one who might be able to understand.

"Oh, Severus," said wailed, breaking down once more, landing on her knees and letting her tears stain the dark marble. "Everything is so screwed up. Please, please, help me."


	12. Chapter 12: Push

A/N: This may be the chapter many of you are waiting for. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks as always for the lovely reviews.

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><p><strong>Chapter 12: Push<strong>

Hermione hadn't come that day as she always did. Severus paced for hours, worried that she was hurt somewhere, that she'd come across a memory so terrible it made her never wish to speak with him again.

When he began to feel weak and dizzy, he resigned himself to sitting by the window. He sat there for hours as the sky turned black, waiting for her, praying his swallow would fly back into his world.

Severus was staring unfocused at the darkness, his left temple resting against the glass, when he finally saw Hermione make her way across the lawn towards him. As relief flooded him, he noticed that she was shaking and unsteady as she walked quickly towards the tomb. She kept wiping her eyes with her sleeves, and he realized she was crying.

"Oh, Severus," she cried, and he watched her fall forward against the stone. His body instinctively reached out to catch her, but was stopped by the wall of glass, his fingers splaying across the windows.

"Everything is so screwed up," she choked out between sobs. "Please, please, help me."

His breath stopped as though someone had turned it off with a tap. He looked sideways at the doorway at the top of the spiral stairs, but looked back at her as she began to speak like a waterfall in a spring flood.

"Ron… I… we're over. I turned him down, and then—he was so angry. I thought of you as I Apparated—the Shrieking Shack—your blood was all over the walls, the floor—you're really gone. Last night, one of my nightmares… and then… I felt you. I think I love you, Severus—except you're dead and it makes no sense and—oh Merlin, you're really gone."

The words tumbled out of her so fast she was practically incoherent, and then she broke down into wretched sobs. Severus watched her put her arms around her head and rock forward against the tomb as her body shook with another deep wail, and he quickly pieced together her words into sense: her relationship with Weasley was over; she'd Apparated to where he'd died; she had nightmares—he knew that; he was dead—he knew that; and she thought… _no__… __that can__'__t be_._ How could she possibly love me? _Perhaps she meant as a teacher, a mentor, a friend even, but those didn't make sense either.

Below him, Hermione raised her eyes to the sky, tears sparkling like jewels across her face in the starlight. "How is this supposed to be, damn it!" she shouted. "How can I love a dead man instead of the man who loves me back?! Tell me how that makes sense! Tell me what it means!" She roared into the air and pulled at her hair with her fingers, her magic crackling around her like lightening. "Why is everything so wrong?! Why am _I_ so wrong?! Why do you keep taking everyone away from me?! Tell me! Tell me, damn you!"

Behind the glass, Severus Snape stood stock still, his mind swirling in confusion, despair, and a growing, desperate feeling of wanting to rush to her side.

"What are you waiting for, Sev?" a soft voice said in his ear, and Severus jumped as a pair of green eyes materialized to his right, followed by the rest of his childhood friend.

"Lily… what?" he stammered.

_What the hell is going on?_

Lily looked out the window at Hermione, who sobs were so deep it sounded as if her emotions were trying to escape through her skin. "Please," she whimpered, her body crumpling against the stone once again. "Severus, come back. Please come back. You can't be gone."

"Are you listening?" asked Lily, looking at him out of the corner of her eye as she watched the scene below.

"Of course I'm listening!" snapped Severus. "I'm not bloody deaf!" He was about to hiss an additional acerbic comment when he abruptly remembered his promise to Hermione. He wrenched his eyes away from her shaking form and towards Lily. "I have a message about Harry," he said, and Lily raised her eyebrows at him.

"What about Harry?" she asked quietly.

"He's doing fine. He's going to be an Auror. She wanted me to tell you," he said gruffly, his eyes flicking towards Hermione.

Lily smiled at him. "Thank you for helping Harry."

"Do not thank me, Lily. Curse me, hit me, but do not thank me," said Severus quietly, turning his head to the side, still fully aware of Hermione's soft cries from outside the windows.

"Why would I act so cruelly to the man who protected and helped my son for so many years, who gave him the knowledge he so desperately needed at the end?" Lily said.

"I did it for you. It was all for you," said Severus, chancing to look into her soft emerald eyes. "Lily…"

"Isn't it time you did something for someone else? For yourself?" asked Lily, looking at him sadly.

"But I betrayed you. I _killed_ you, Lily—and James, and almost Harry too," he choked out, refusing to believe her words. "I don't deserve—"

"Shhh," said Lily, putting her fingers against his lips. He looked down, too ashamed to look in her eyes, her bright green eyes.

Hermione's pleas echoed in his ears, tugged at his heart. He wanted to look out the window once more, but his eyes remained glued to his fists, which were white-knuckled in his lap.

"Your heart is capable of so much more love than you give it credit for, Sev," said Lily. "You just have to learn to listen to it."

Severus shook his head and shut his eyes, his eyebrows scrunching into knots. "My heart is broken, irreparable," he whispered. "Whatever is left is yours."

"You know that's not true," said Lily, and she reached out and touched his chest with her right hand, placing it over his heart. "You can feel it, can't you? It's not for me. It may have been once, but not anymore. Let me go, Sev. You deserve happiness. Your mistakes are paid for ten times over. Listen to your heart. _Feel it_."

Feeling the warmth of Lily's hand spreading over chest, Severus turned his perception inward and felt his heart beating wildly, the same as it had before. But this time there was something more, something growing inside him, deep in his ribcage, swelling like a balloon, making his chest ache. And the person it ached for was sitting three floors below crying for him, pleading for him to return.

"But I have nothing to help her," he whispered mournfully. "How could she possibly want me?"

"Listen," said Lily simply.

"Severus, please, come back to me," moaned Hermione. "I know it makes no sense, but I need you. I can't do this without you. Please. Please…"

"You've been given a chance, Sev," said Lily. "You can have something I could never give you: you can love, and be loved in return. Your life can be different."

She pushed him gently backwards, and Severus raised his gaze. He looked at Lily's face, into her beautiful green eyes, kind and forgiving and sure.

"Go to her," she said firmly.

Severus let the balloon in his chest expand outwards, fill his body and his mind. He looked at Hermione below him, her face glistening with tears.

And then he ran.

He flew up the marble stairs, his robes fluttering behind him like black wings. He threw the door open, and a white light, bright beyond anything he had seen before, radiated from the space beyond, enveloping him in light, and then he felt himself falling.


	13. Chapter 13: Alive

A/N: Wow! I am so overwhelmed and pleased by the responses to the last chapter. I can't thank you enough for all the positive reviews; I'm so glad you all liked it! I apologize (only slightly) for the cliffhanger, but it just seemed the perfect place to end the chapter. But, we continue right along where we left off now. So, without further ado, here we go!

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><p><strong>Chapter 13: Alive<strong>

Severus fell into darkness. He could still hear Hermione sobbing, but the sound was muffled, as if he was hearing it through a mile of water. Soft walls pressed against his shoulders, and his arms were crossed over his chest, which was rising and falling rhythmically with his breath, a sure sign he was shockingly alive.

His wand lay in his right hand, and he curled his fingers tightly around it, feeling his magic course through his arm. As he brought his left hand to his neck, expecting to feel a wet, open wound where Nagini had ripped out his flesh with her fangs, he instead felt smooth skin, and his eyes widened in the darkness. He had no idea how it was possible, how his body had managed to knit itself back together, but he realized it didn't matter.

_I'm alive. _

"Severus…" Hermione's muffled voice called.

_Hermione, I'm coming! _

"Lumos," he said, and a bright ball sprang forth from his wand, illuminating the cramped space where he lay.

_Well, great, _he thought, staring up at a rectangle of swirling black marble, _I really am inside the fucking tomb. _

Wordlessly, Snape levitated the lid of the grave, which gave a great cracking sound as it pulled away from his coffin bed. As he heaved it to the side, well out of the way of the tomb so it would not hit Hermione if she sat close by, he heard a scream.

"Hermione!" he said as he bolted upright, his body feeling unusually stiff from its confinement, and he turned his head to find her.

She looked wild. She lay plastered backwards on the grass, her face framed by a dizzying mess of curls, tears still streaming down her cheeks from wide, scared eyes, wand raised and pointed at his face.

"It's okay, Hermione," he tried to soothe her, putting a hand on the edge of the tomb to steady himself as he brought his body around to face her more squarely. He found it difficult to move his legs, his black woollen funeral robes narrow and bound tightly around him.

"Who are you? What have you done with his body? Leave him be!" Hermione shrieked, jutting her wand further towards him in a threatening motion.

"It's me," he said as he struggled to get out of the tomb. "It's Severus—Snape."

"No!" Hermione screamed. "Stop! Don't come closer! Help! Expecto Patronum!" An otter leapt from her wand towards him, knocking him back into the casket, but he brushed it aside, pulling himself upwards as it turned and loped across the lake towards the castle.

"I am not some Dementor to be chased away!" Severus hissed, rearing up out of the tomb.

"Stupefy!" Hermione shouted and Severus quickly shielded himself, knocking the spell to his side. He pushed himself upwards with his left arm while pointing his wand at the girl with his right, pulling his feet underneath him so he was towering above her.

"Avis Opugno!" Hermione screeched, and a dozen tiny birds exploded from her wand and dove towards him, but with a swipe of his wand he turned them into butterflies, which lazily flitted around his shoulders, a stark contrast to his seething dark countenance.

"I swear to Merlin, Hermione, if you try to hex me again I will petrify you until you listen to me," he growled. "I am _not_ going to harm you. It's _me, _Severus. Let me get out of here and I'll explai—oof!" He cringed as his foot caught on his robes as he tried to step over the edge of the coffin, and he fell forward, unable to catching himself because of his binding robes.

He landed on his elbows, face inches from Hermione's, legs tangled in her own. She squeaked and began to struggle, her wand arm pinned beneath him at her side.

"Stop it," he hissed, grabbing her biceps in an attempt to stop her squirming. "I am here to _help._" He bore his scowl into her terrified eyes, and felt his anger melt away in their reflection.

_You're scaring her, you bastard!_

Severus let his gaze soften, releasing his grip and running his fingers up to her trembling shoulders.

"You were calling me. I'm here. I've come back for you," he said as softly as he could, his voice a smooth deep rumble.

Hermione stopped struggling and swallowed visibly, searching his face. "But you were dead," she squeaked.

"Not exactly," he said grimly.

"How is it possible?" she whispered.

"Use that brilliant brain of yours," said Severus with a gentle smirk.

Her expression turned from fear to concentration, her eyes searching his own as if trying to make sense of the fact he was in front of her. She was so close he could feel her rapid breath on his cheek, and he wanted desperately to bury his face in her neck, to wrap her in his arms, to tell her everything would be all right. But he forced himself to stay still lest he scare her again, to look into her deep caramel eyes. He let his mask fall, his final shields drop so she could see him—all of him.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it was not for her to reach up between their bodies and touch his face. Her fingers traced up his cheekbones, across his eyebrows, down his nose, and his eyelashes fluttered in response. He sucked in a breath as her pointer gently glided over his lips.

"You're not a memory," she whispered, her gaze softening as she rested her hand on his cheek, sending his heart racing.

"I'm real," he confirmed, his voice sounding rough to his ears.

"It's really you." She smiled, and to Severus it was as if someone had lit a fire in his frigid dungeon rooms.

"Yes, it's really me," he said.

"Severus…"

"Miss Granger! Are you all right? Your Patronus—Oh!" said a loud female voice, which floated to Severus's ears from across the lawn along with the sound of running feet. It was followed by a shriek, and he looked up to see Minerva McGonagal running towards them dressed in a burgundy plaid dressing gown.

"_You_! S—Snape!" the older witch stammered, raising her wand at him. "Unhand Miss Granger at once, or I'll—"

"Yes, all right!" growled Severus. He stood up and brushed off his robes, attempting untangle them from his legs, then offered a hand to Hermione, who took it and rose beside him.

"How can you be here? You're dead!" snapped McGonagal.

"I am not dead! And put your damned wand away!" Severus snarled.

"I will not!" shouted McGonagal. "This isn't possible! We buried you!"

"Because _that__'__s_ never happened to alive people before," said Severus sarcastically.

"Were you in Limbo?" Hermione asked quietly from beside him.

_Ah, brilliant woman, I knew you would figure it out._

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I was," he said sleekly, and turned and gave Hermione a small smile. She blinked in surprise and raised the corners of her lips shyly in return.

"I don't believe it!" shrieked McGonagal, and Severus had to hold back from shouting at the stubborn woman.

"Believe it," he spat. "Honestly, I thought you'd be a little happier to see me _alive_."

"I am," whispered Hermione, so quietly he could barely hear her, and a tingle went up his spine.

"Well I never!" said McGonagal. "I simply... I—I cannot believe you."

"Please, Professor," said Hermione, taking a step forward. "It's him."

"Minerva, perhaps we should go back to the castle?" supplied Severus, not wanting to continue this conversation on the lawn like some uncivilized brutes.

McGonagal straightened up. "Don't tell me what to do, Severus—if it is you," she snapped at him coldly, but then turned to Hermione and sighed. "Fine. Come back to the castle and we will see if what you say is true. If we can confirm you are, in fact, Severus Snape, then I'm sure we'll be quite happy to welcome you back."

"Lead the way, then," said Severus with a sigh.

* * *

><p>Back in the castle, Severus felt a bit like an object being checked for curses as Flitwick, McGonagal, Sprout and Pomfrey circled around him, tapping him with their wands.<p>

"Highly unusual indeed! But I say, I do believe it's him," quipped Flitwick, poking him in the chest with his wand one last time.

"If you'd listened to me, you could have come to that conclusion an hour ago," said Severus sourly.

"It certainly sounds like him," said Sprout with a slight twinkle in her eye.

"Could we please stop speaking like I am not in the room?" snapped Severus. The process was all highly irritating. Honestly, was it really so hard to believe he wasn't dead?

"So you were in Limbo, you say?" asked McGonagal, stowing her wand in her dressing gown.

"Yes, as I believe I have told you five times now," said Severus, irritation clear in his deep voice.

"We're just being careful, Severus. Surely you must understand. We can't take chances," said McGonagal. "Two months seems like an awfully long time to be in Limbo."

"Yes, well, I assure you, I had my reasons," Severus snapped, not wishing to share exactly what those reasons were.

McGonagal raised her eyebrows at him, but did not press further on the subject. "What can you tell me that only Severus would know?"

"Oh, I don't know: I taught for 17 years and was headmaster for one, I was a spy against the Dark Lord, Harry Potter was a Horcrux, I was nearly killed by Voldemort and his damned snake in the Shrieking Shack—what do you want to know?"

"You could easily have found out all those things from another source. You'll have to do better, I'm afraid," said McGonagal, frowning.

"Excuse me, Professor McGonagal, perhaps I could be of some help," said Hermione, appearing beside them. She'd been standing silently in the corner of the room since they arrived, staring at Severus with hooded, questioning eyes. Severus was fairly certain the four staff members standing in front of him had forgotten she was there.

"What did you have in mind, Miss Granger?" asked McGonagal, turning to her.

"Well, if I ask him a question from one of his memories—one that isn't common knowledge—and he answers correctly, then it would confirm his identity," said Hermione.

"All right then," said McGonagal, standing aside so Hermione could approach him. She stood in front of his chair, her face still red and puffy from crying, and Severus had a sudden urge to reach out and sweep aside a piece of hair that dangled in front of her soft brown eyes, but kept still.

"Severus—I mean, sir—what did you do to stop Alecto Carrow from catching Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley creating graffiti near the fourth floor corridor?"

_Bless her_. She'd picked a memory that put him in a positive light.

"A simple tripping jinx combined with a rather unfortunately placed statue," he replied, nodding his head ever so slightly in thanks as he finished.

"He's correct," said Hermione, turning to face McGonagal.

"Another—you know as well as I do, Miss Granger, that was reported to the Ministry," said McGonagal tersely.

"All right," said Hermione, gathering herself once more. She seemed to think for a moment, then looked at him in the eyes once more, a hint of uncertainty in her gaze this time. "What did your father always drink?"

"Gin and ice," said Severus, surprised that once again she'd chosen something innocuous. He knew what she'd seen in his memories; she could have asked him about Lily, about Voldemort, about Hogwarts, about Dumbledore, about any of the horrible atrocities he'd witnessed or been a part of, and yet she chose these two memories to share in front of his former colleagues.

"He's correct," Hermione said again, her hands gripping the hem of her shorts tightly.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," said McGonagall. "Well, now that we have that settled, I think it's best that Poppy have a thorough look at you, Severus. Sealed in a grave for two months! I can hardly believe it. And after being attacked…"

"I assure you, I am quite fine," said Severus. _Merlin knows how._ Nevertheless, the last thing he wanted was doting on by Poppy Pomfrey. What he wanted was to speak alone with Hermione, to brush the darkened look from her face.

"Don't glare at me, Severus," said Poppy. "I agree you look fine, but there's no way of knowing if there was internal damage."

"I insist you go," said Minerva firmly.

"All right, all right," Severus relented. He knew Minerva was impossible to argue with once she had decided on something.

"Pomona, please help Poppy escort Severus to the infirmary. Filius, you may go."

Severus found himself being tugged out of his chair by the old matron. "Come on, Severus, you know the way," she said jovially.

"Unhand me, woman!" snapped Severus, tugging his arm forcefully from her grasp. "I can bloody well walk."

Just before the door closed, he looked behind him to see Hermione staring at him once more, her eyes unreadable, shining pools.

_I__'__ll be back for you._ _Wait for me; I__'__ll be back._


	14. Chapter 14: The Day After

A/N: Thank you again for all the lovely reviews on the last chapter. And, yes, I'm a bit cruel with our lovely couple, but that's part of the fun for me (and hopefully for you too); I'll just say that you shouldn't expect me to stop, though there will be some lighter—dare I say even potentially humourous—moments making appearances from now on.

Let's see how Hermione is dealing with all of this, shall we? Hope you enjoy.

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><p><strong>Chapter 14: The Day After<strong>

Hermione stretched in the bright morning sun pouring through the cracks in her curtains. She blinked, remembering her dream: Severus falling on top of her, staring into his bottomless eyes, touching his face, feeling his breath on her lips, the weight of his thin body on top of her own.

She shot straight up in bed, sending the covers flying and Crookshanks hissing onto the floor.

_Severus is alive! _

_It was real! It wasn't a dream!_

Last night he had risen out of his grave like a ghost. She'd thought he was some terrible creature or an Inferi come to torment her and had tried to hex him, but he'd quickly overpowered her. Then, locked beneath his lithe body, his hair falling across her face, she'd realized it was him—_really him_, the man she'd been craving and calling for. She'd had so many questions, but all she could do was touch his face, make sure he wasn't a memory or a dream.

He'd said he heard her, that he'd come back for her, but how could that be? She shivered, wondering what he meant by those words.

Was he still in the infirmary? She'd have to go see. She had to find him somehow, talk to him. _Seduce him? No, he wouldn't want that, would he?_

Hermione was roused from her mental deliberations of just how exactly she should approach Severus by a sudden tap at her window. Another insistent series of taps followed shortly after the first. She pushed the curtains aside, got out of bed, and there was Pigwidgeon, doing cartwheels in the air outside the clear glass, stopping to knock at the window with his beak every third rotation.

_Oh God, Ron! _

She'd broken up with Ron last night too—well, he'd broken up with her. He'd asked her to marry him. She'd declined. He'd left. He'd told her to go drown in Snape's memories.

_Well, you certainly did something of the sort, _she thought with a slight pang of guilt, following by a wave of sudden panic. Combined with the excitement of seeing Severus alive once more, her heart felt like it was going to explode it was beating so fast.

_Calm down, Hermione, you can work this out. _

With trepidation, Hermione opened the window to let the tiny owl inside, taking the letter from his leg and giving him an owl treat from her desk. Closing the window after letting Pigwidgeon out, she unfurled the parchment, her hands shaking. Her eyes darted quickly to the bottom to find it was not from Ron, with filled her great relief but also a surprising bubble of anger at being left on her own once again. Shaking her head, she returned to the top of the letter to read it in full.

_Hermione,_

_Ron told us what happened. What a prat! I told him so too. I can't believe he would do that to you. Honestly, AS IF you'd be ready to marry him so soon after everything._

_I know he told you it was over, but don't worry, he'll come around. He's a dolt, but he's not a complete idiot. He really does love you. _

_Let me know if you need any of your things right away. Otherwise I'll bring them the first of September. You are staying for your seventh year, right? Ron said you told him so. We'll be in lots of the same classes—it will be great!_

_Also, Harry said Snape's not dead?! McGonagal owled him late last night saying he'd come back. Seriously, he was dead, wasn't he? I remember the funeral… Anyway, Harry will be there later today. I'm sure he'll stop by and say hi._

_Hang in there. Talk soon._

_Love,_

_Ginny_

_P.S. Sorry for using Pigwidgeon. I'm sure you thought this was from Ron. I wouldn't have used Pig but Errol and Hermes were out delivering other letters._

Hermione sighed, tossing the letter onto her bed and watching Crookshanks pounce on it. She sat down to stroke her orange feline, who purred appreciatively.

"What am I going to do, Crookshanks?" she asked him. The beast looked at her, stretched out his claws, and dug them into the letter, shredding it as he kneaded in pleasure.

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><p>Having slept in due to her very late and emotional evening the night before, Hermione grabbed toast from the kitchens before making her way to the infirmary. After straightening out her robes, she peeked into the doors and was met with the sounds of Severus arguing with Poppy.<p>

"I assure you, Poppy, I am quite all right!"

"You were in a grave for two months. Now lie back down and take this."

Hermione heard the clink of some bottles, then the sound of rustling sheets.

"I am not a child, Poppy, you do not need to tuck me in!"

The old witch tutted at him, and then walked toward Hermione, smiling when she saw her at the door.

"He's a little grumpy, dear. I'll be in here if you need anything," said the old matron, motioning at her office.

Hermione found her old professor tucked tightly up to his chin inside white sheets, a great scowl on his face. He had never looked more uncomfortable, and she wondered if Madame Pomfrey wasn't having a little fun at his expense: he looked not unlike a long marshmallow with an angry head sticking from one side.

Unable to stop herself, Hermione burst out laughing, the tensions of the past 24 hours spilling out of her.

"Severus, you look—" she gasped, clutching her stomach, unable to breathe properly between her trills of laughter.

"I'm glad you find my discomfort so amusing," Severus drawled, his scowl deepening.

"I—I'm sorry," gasped Hermione, trying to catch her breath, "but you really do look horrible."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," he snapped and began thrashing wildly, trying to get out from under the sheets, but only managing to get himself further entangled.

"Let me help you," said Hermione, coming over to his bedside and attempting to untuck the edges, which were wrapped so tightly around the corners of the mattress it was as if they were held by a Sticking Charm.

"I am perfectly capable—"

"Stop moving, Severus, I can't get a proper grip."

"Hermione, if you just let me—"

As Hermione finally loosed the edge of the bedding, there was a flurry of sheets and robes, and they landed in a pile on the floor.

"Well, this certainly does seem to be becoming a theme," said Severus smoothly, the edges of his lips turning upwards. He was on top of her again, still partially tangled in the sheets, which lay mostly between them. They were both breathing hard—and Hermione wasn't entirely sure it was from struggling with the bedding. Hermione could only stare at Severus, her body and mind apparently frozen by his obsidian gaze.

"Hermione," he said, his voice quiet and gravelly. It made her tremble, and she licked her lips, not daring to look away from his burning black eyes.

"Well, Professor McGonagal told me you were back from the dead, but I didn't realize you'd be quite so lively, Professor Snape," said an amused-sounding male voice, and Hermione felt Severus stiffen above her as his head snapped to the side.

"Harry!" Hermione squeaked a familiar face with green eyes and disheveled hair appeared behind Severus's right shoulder.

Another flurry of sheets and Severus was standing, trying his best to look stern and authoritative, but failing somewhat in his infirmary gown. Hermione stood and brushed off her robes, feeling her cheeks flush with colour. She was sure her face was as bright as a Gryffindor tapestry.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her in question, and she looked at the floor.

"Well, um, I think I'll let you both talk," she said quietly, turning to leave. She stopped and turned back before opening the door. "I'll be in the quarters in the Headmaster's Tower when you're done."

Then she quietly slipped out of the room.

* * *

><p>The Headmaster's rooms looked quite different from when Hermione had first started. She had transformed the bed curtains into burgundy and gold tartan in preparation for Professor McGonagal, the vanity was finally repaired, Severus's objects packed up or moved away, and she was almost finished sorting the books into boxes by subject. In a wooden box on the table in the middle of the room were several dozen tiny bottles full of Snape's memories, along with his copy of <em>Alice in Wonderland<em>, mementos tucked back inside.

Harry found Hermione sorting through the last of the books.

"Hey, Hermione," said Harry, coming into the room.

"Hi Harry," Hermione smiled.

After much thought, Hermione had decided it was best to act as though nothing had happened, that her best friend had not found her lying vulnerably below her ex-professor just an hour previously, that she had not been thinking about kissing Severus when he did.

Harry looked at her quizzically, as if unsure what to say, and then said, "So Snape seems well…"

Hermione bolted forwards, grasping the front of his robes. "Please don't tell Ron, Harry, _please,_" she begged.

_Well that lasted about three seconds. Way to hold it together, Hermione. _She let go of Harry's robes, feeling her face flush in embarrassment.

"It's okay, Hermione, I won't," said Harry, motioning for them to sit down. "I have to wonder though. You two looked pretty comfortable up there."

"I know what it looked like, Harry. But, honestly, it was an accident. He just fell."

"Okay," said Harry, looking not quite convinced. "Well, despite being dead for two months, he seems to be doing rather well. Poppy said he can leave later today."

"That's great," said Hermione, hopeful that the next time she saw Severus, they might be in private.

"He says he won't be returning to Hogwarts to teach," said Harry.

Hermione wasn't sure how to feel about that. She hadn't thought to ask, not that she'd had the opportunity. She hoped it didn't mean he wanted to escape from Hogwarts—and her—as quickly as possible.

Harry seemed to sense her mood. "Hermione, is something going on?"

"No," said Hermione tentatively. "Well, I don't know," she admitted in a rush, looking at the box of memories.

"I thought you and Ron were a sure thing," said Harry gently.

"I thought so too, for a while," replied Hermione, picking nervously at the hem of her shorts. "Maybe if we'd had more time before he asked me to marry him, I would have said yes."

"I know he can be a prat, but he does love you," said Harry.

Hermione nodded, tears starting to form at the corner's of her eyes. "Then why did he react the way he did? He says he loves me, but he never really thinks of what I want or need, does he? It was just like when he left us in the forest."

Harry tried to speak, but Hermione put her hand up to stop him.

"I know, that was partly the Horcrux, Harry. But that wasn't the only time, was it? And last night, he was so cruel. He told me to go drown in Snape's memories."

"So you're flirting with Snape to get back at him?

"Do you really think I would do that?" snapped Hermione crossly. "It has nothing to do with Ron."

"I'm sorry, Hermione," said Harry, looking mollified.

"But Ron's never trusted me, has he? With Krum, with you. What would happen if he found out about Severus? Nothing's even going on, I don't think."

"You don't think? Does that mean you—"

"Want it to?" finished Hermione, drawing her curls forward over her shoulder and twirling them anxiously with her fingers. "I don't know, Harry. I honestly have no idea. I thought he was dead until 12 hours ago."

"Last I checked, Snape was madly in love with my mum," said Harry softly, his eyes flicking to the floor and then back at her.

"He probably still is," said Hermione, her stomach fluttering uncomfortably. She sighed, deciding that her best friend deserved to know at least some of what was going on.

"You have to promise not to tell anyone what I'm about to tell you," she said, looking at Harry seriously.

"I won't, Hermione," said Harry, looking very concerned now.

"Well, you know I've been looking at Professor Snape's memories. There's a lot more than what he showed you and what I gave you for his trial: gatherings with Voldemort, time with your mum, being bullied and tortured and abused, hurting people too…

"For some reason, I started going to talk to him—well, his grave—afterwards. I talked to him about what I saw, but I also told him about me, the war. I knew it wasn't really him, but I felt connected to him, somehow. It made me feel better. That's where I was when Severus came back. It was after Ron told me to basically bugger off. I didn't know Severus was in Limbo. But I was crying, and then Severus appeared. I—I think he heard me Harry. When he came out of his grave, I tried to jinx him, but he just kept telling me he was trying to help."

Hermione let out a long breath.

"I've been having nightmares, Harry. Ron never asked if I was okay after the battle, just assumed I was fine. He never asked… And after I came back from Australia, he'd thought I'd be fine after three days—three days, Harry! But I wasn't. I'm still not okay. I'm not sure I'll _ever_ be okay without them," she choked. Tears were running down her face now, and Harry drew her into a hug. She collapsed against him, allowing him to comfort her as she continued to cry.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't know," said Harry, rubbing her back. "I should have asked."

"Oh Harry, don't be stupid," she snapped, wiping her eyes. "It's not as if you haven't had a million things going on."

"I know, but you're my friend," he said.

"And that's why I'm telling you now," said Hermione, pulling away from him. She looked into his forlorn green eyes, which really did look so much like his mother's. "Please don't think you have to make it better, Harry. You've done enough. You deserve to be happy."

"But so do you, Hermione," said Harry, looking serious. His eyes flicked to his lap, then back to her. "I don't think we would have survived without you."

Hermione smiled through her tears. "I'm glad I could help you, Harry. You're my best friend. You don't have to say anything," she sniffed.

"Look at us, getting all sappy," she added, trying to lighten the mood. "Look, don't worry, okay? I'm sure it will get sorted out and this will all this stuff with Severus will be a big weird joke in a few months," she said.

"You sure?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Of course. I'm the 'insufferable know-it-all,' remember?"

Harry grinned. "Well, I should get going. Ginny'll have a fit if I'm not back soon—she's dying to know what's going on," said Harry, getting up. "Let me know if you need anything, or need someone to talk to."

He walked towards the stairs, pausing briefly at the top. "I won't tell Ron about anything, but you should tell him it's over for good, if that's what you want. Later, Hermione."

"Thanks, Harry. Have a safe trip back."


	15. Chapter 15: Dinner and Dessert

A/N: Thanks for everyone's continued support of this fic. This chapter is rated M for some citrus at the end. I couldn't help myself. All is fair in love and masturbation, after all, and Hermione had her turn already.

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><p><strong>Chapter 15: Dinner and Dessert<strong>

It was dusk when Severus was finally let out of the infirmary. He headed straight to his old Headmaster's quarters, hoping Hermione was still there and not in the Great Hall eating with the others.

He'd spent most of the past day wondering what he might say to her when he saw her next. But once again it seemed fate preferred action over words, and this morning he'd fallen into her arms, only to be brutally interrupted once more.

_Damn Potter, always getting in the way_. He hoped that Hermione wouldn't be too embarrassed, that he hadn't frightened her somehow. He wondered if he was doomed to becoming uncharacteristically clumsy or having someone else get in the way whenever he encountered her.

His mind turned as his long strides took him hopefully ever closer to the young woman who had captured his heart in Limbo. He wouldn't yet admit to loving her, but he would say he cared about her and wanted to be her partner. Hermione had admitted through her tears that she loved him, but that seemed highly unlikely to Severus. She'd seen his memories, but that was all. If he was going to be with her, Severus was not content to accept feelings based on his memories alone. He'd decided while lying in bed in the warm afternoon sunshine that he was going to take his time and allow Hermione to get to know him properly. As terrifying as it was, he would allow her to see who he really was. The process would be difficult—he'd spent most of his life _hiding_ who he was, after all—but he would try for Hermione's sake. If by some miracle she still wanted him after that, he would gladly accept her.

Severus was thankful that McGonagal was not in her office. He looked up at Dumbledore's portrait, who waved silently and winked at him as he passed beneath it.

Snape frowned. _Cheeky old bastard. I bet he knew exactly what would happen._

He opened the secret door behind the bookcase with an odd sense of deja-vu, and went up the stairs.

Hermione was sitting at the table with her back to the door, reading a book. He paid no attention at all to the room, mesmerized by the way her chestnut curls caught the light of the fire and the setting sun through the window, highlighting it with streaks of gold.

Severus cleared his throat, suddenly nervous and unsure of himself. "Miss Granger," he said, keeping his face impassive, feeling comforted by years of practiced formality.

Hermione turned around and smirked. "I thought you weren't going to teach anymore?"

"I am not," he answered simply. As he'd explained to Harry earlier, it didn't seem right to be Headmaster and then go back to teaching, and he wasn't about to take Minerva's post. It was time to move on, to choose for himself where he wanted to be. There were plenty of other opportunities for someone as skilled as him.

"Then please call me Hermione," she said. "I feel like I'm in your class again when you call me 'Miss Granger'."

_Another cheeky one_. But he was glad to call her by her first name. He'd been doing so in Limbo for some time, and then there was this morning in the infirmary...

"Hermione," he said gruffly as the image of her lying below him flashed across his mind again. He enjoyed the way her name, ancient and beautiful, felt on his tongue. He liked even more the small smile that spread over Hermione's lips when he said it.

He stood there, not sure of what to do next. Courting an exceptional young woman (or any woman for that matter) was not in his realm of experience, and it made him uncomfortable to feel so unsure of the responses his actions and words would create. He was normally a man of action, of certainty, of quiet calculation, but in the ways of love he felt like a bumbling fool. He swore at himself internally, believing if he did not figure it out soon Hermione would come to her senses and run away, just as Lily had.

Hermione either didn't notice his internal struggles or chose not to comment. She stood up, lifting a wooden box from the table.

"I put these aside for you," she said, and he took a few paces towards her so he could peer inside the container. "I thought you might want them back."

Inside the box was several dozen tiny bottles filled with silver liquid along with his old copy of _Alice in Wonderland_.

"I looked at all of them, I'm afraid," she said, blushing slightly. "We shared a few things at your trial—we thought you were dead—but I kept most of them to myself. I only showed the others what was necessary, I promise. We—_I_ just wanted to make sure your reputation was based on fact."

Severus didn't know what to say. The reality was he owed Hermione at least in part for the fact that he was not currently sitting in Azkaban as a convicted Death Eater. Leaving behind his memories had apparently been a very good idea on his part, not only because it was proof of his innocence, but also because it brought him the apparent interest of the Gryffindor standing in front of him.

"Thank you," he said honestly, to which Hermione smiled. He took the box from her hands and put it back on the table. Then, after taking the book and putting it in his pocket, he vanished the lot with a sweep of his wand.

"Will you be returning to Cokeworth right away?" asked Hermione.

"I suppose I must," said Severus with a frown. He hadn't honestly thought that far ahead; but if he was no longer a professor at Hogwarts, he supposed he would have to leave.

"We could use your help repairing the castle, if you wanted to stay here through the end of August," said Hermione, adding, "Professor McGonagal said you would be welcome."

"And how do you feel about it?" Severus asked smoothly.

Hermione's face flushed scarlet at his question, and she looked sideways and bit her lip. "I would like you to stay," she said quietly after a few moments, her face flushing an even deeper shade of red.

"I'd be happy to stay and help," he said, trying to keep his face still, though his muscles twitched with the urge to break into a toothy grin. Hermione, not having the same penchant for hiding her feelings, smiled broadly at his answer.

"Have you eaten dinner?" she asked.

"I have not," Severus replied.

"Would you like to join me then?"

Severus nodded, but instead of leading him down the stairs and towards the Great Hall, Hermione waved her wand and a hearty looking stew, buns, salad and a bottle of wine appeared on the table in front of them.

"I thought you might not want to eat with everyone else," she said quietly, her eyes glittering at him.

_Apparently she's been planning._ Severus was surprised but pleased. _This is what you wanted, Severus. Be a gentleman. Enjoy this._

He stepped forward to hold out a chair so Hermione could sit down, then took the one across from her. The private setting was admittedly romantic, and Severus's heart hummed nervously as he offered to fill Hermione's wine glass.

"What will you do now you're not teaching?" asked Hermione as she scooped some stew onto her plate. Severus noticed her hand shaking slightly, and wondered if she was nervous.

"Brew and sell potions, most likely," he answered. "I expect there are plenty of apothecaries and other businesses who would be interested in what I have to offer."

"I don't doubt that," said Hermione, her eyes flicking to his and holding them for a moment. "Are there very many Potion Masters?"

"Not anymore," he said after swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat at the sight of her brown-sugar irises staring at him. "I'm afraid potion making is not an art most young people seem interested in pursuing as a career. Do you know what you'd like to do for work?"

"Not really," said Hermione, a small frown forming at the edge of her lips. She took a sip of her wine and then asked him another question. "Have you ever taken on an apprentice?"

"No, I've had too many other responsibilities," he said. _Like being a spy and saving your friend._

"Would you take one on now?"

"You ask a lot of questions, you know that?" Severus said with an amused smirk.

"I'm interested in the answers," said Hermione, who then admitted quietly, "I'd like to get to know you better."

Severus could not help but be continually surprised that she was truly interested in him, but was not complaining. For some reason—perhaps because she'd been spilling her deepest thoughts and feelings to him for weeks—he trusted that she did not have some secret agenda in getting to know him. Combined with the promise to himself that he would open up to her, he did his best to answer her inquiries without irritation.

"No, I can't see myself taking on an apprentice," he said. "Teaching has never been my strong suit, which you experienced first hand."

"I thought you were a good teacher. A bit harsh at times, but I learned a lot from you regardless," Hermione said before pausing in thought, then adding. "You know, you're quite different outside of the classroom."

"Is that a good thing?" Severus asked, praying the answer was yes.

Hermione chuckled. "Yes. I prefer your company this way," she said.

"I hope we might continue to enjoy each other's company after tonight, if you'll allow it," said Severus more quietly than he meant to, fearing what her answer might be.

"Oh, yes, I'd like that," Hermione said, her scarlet blush returning, and Severus couldn't help his lips from quirking upwards in both joy and relief at her acceptance.

Their conversation lapsed into silence for a while, and Severus studied Hermione intently as they ate. He noticed that she glanced up at him occasionally between mouthfuls of stew, and wondered what she was thinking about. Just as in Limbo, he waited patiently, knowing her thoughts would eventually reach her mouth.

"Severus?" she asked tentatively, her fork stilling in her hand.

"Yes?"

"When you—that is to say, when Voldemort attacked you—or rather when he made Nagini attack you, there was…" her voice trailed off.

"Spit out your question, Hermione," said Severus in an uncharacteristically patient tone. "Fumbling over words doesn't suit you."

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink, and she took a moment to pull herself together before asking him forthright: "How did you survive your injuries? There's not even any scars on your neck."

"My guess is as good as yours," said Severus, his fingers unconsciously tracing the place where Nagini's fangs had punctured his flesh. "I expect it has something to do with Limbo. Perhaps I can simply answer your question with 'magic'."

"Magic?" said Hermione, looking confused.

"That was a joke, Hermione," said Severus with a pointed look. "Of _course_ it was magic."

"Oh!" she squeaked.

"Contrary to popular belief, I do have a sense of humour," said Severus with a toothy smirk.

Hermione's cheeks flushed an even darker shade of pink at his comment and looked down at her plate, and Severus couldn't help but think her rather enticing at that moment. He wished he could rub his thumbs over the rosy circles on her cheekbones, but instead drained the last of his glass of wine.

"More wine?" he asked, reaching for the bottle.

"Oh, yes, please," Hermione answered, lifting her glass and watching him pour more of the deep red liquid into its belly.

Severus finished his meal before Hermione could ask him any more questions, and returned to watching the beautiful young woman across from him. Twirling his wine glass in his long fingers, his elbow on the table, he watched her delicately rip a chunk of bread, dip it in the stew, and place it in her mouth, closing her eyes to savour the taste. He stared at her lips as she licked them, then took a sip of her wine.

"Do my eating habits interest you?" she asked, her eyes twinkling in the dim light.

"Hardly," he said, thinking that wasn't true at all. For a few weeks now, _everything_ about her interested him.

"Could have fooled me," she said with a mischievous smile.

"I am quite accomplished at fooling others, given my work until recently," Severus said silkily, "but I do not intend to fool you."

"Then you shouldn't lie about staring at me," she said in a teasing tone. "I may not be a sneaky Slytherin, but I can see what's right in front of me."

"Could have fooled me," drawled Severus, arching at eyebrow in challenge.

"Oh, I don't think anyone can fool you," said Hermione with a flirtatious smile, taking a sip of her wine and then licking her lips. It took all of Severus's will power not to pounce on her and ravage her against the dinner table.

He cleared his throat and hid his flushing cheeks behind his wine glass. Hermione looked at him quizzically, as if trying to solve a question, and then returned to her meal. She finished a moment later, stretching in her chair and patting her stomach. "That was good. I feel much better now," she said with a sigh.

Severus's mind jarred at her words like a car being hit from behind. _She felt worse before?_ Had he made her feel uncomfortable by staring? But she had been flirting with him, he was sure of it. No, it must have been earlier in the infirmary. Perhaps Potter interrogated her after speaking with him; the boy hadn't said a word to him, only said thank you and assured him he would not be questioned by the Ministry, that his reputation was secure, but then it wasn't exactly like they were friends.

_Don't blow this, Severus. Apologize! _

"I'm sorry about earlier," he said gruffly.

"About what?" Hermione asked.

"About the… incident… in the infirmary," he said carefully.

"Oh," she said with a confused frown, her eyes falling to the table. "It's fine, really."

"But surely, Potter—"

Hermione looked up at him. "Harry's okay. He won't tell anyone," she said.

Severus nodded. Hermione was still frowning, but he willed himself to believe her that things were, in fact, fine.

"All finished?" Hermione asked, gesturing towards their empty plates. Severus inclined his head, signalling the affirmative, and Hermione vanished the leftover food, getting up from the table.

"Well, we should go down, I suppose," she said. "It's getting late."

Severus would have gladly spent the rest of the night in her company, but agreed.

"Of course. I wouldn't want to keep you from your rest," he said (though he knew he was lying again; he'd _very much_ like to keep her from her rest in very many pleasurable ways) and followed her towards the stairs. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

Hermione lips twitched upwards once more at this question. "I expect so," she said as they passed through the bookcase.

"Ah, Severus, Hermione, just who I wanted to see," McGonagal greeted them as they entered her office. She was sitting at her desk, looking over a stack of parchment. "I assume Miss Granger asked if you would be willing to help us restore the castle?"

"She did. I am happy to be of service, of course," said Severus, flicking his eyes to Hermione, who stood next to him, a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Excellent. I'm afraid I wasn't able to procure your old rooms in the dungeons, as they're still quite damaged; well, they're underwater, if truth be told—I was hoping you might help with that," said his old colleague. "But, I have a room on the third floor that should suit you while you are here. I'll show you there now, if you like."

"Lead the way," Severus said.

He followed the headmistress out of the tower, Hermione behind them, to the main staircase. Saying goodnight, Hermione turned the other way, heading, he assumed, to her room in Gryffindor Tower.

Once Hermione was out of earshot, Minerva spoke again. "I hope you were kind to her, Severus. I think you gave her quite a shock yesterday."

Snape grunted. Was he kind to her? He certainly thought so.

"Do you know why she was there, at your grave? She said she was on a walk, but I don't think she was being entirely truthful," said Minerva.

"I have no clue," said Severus. He wasn't about to tell Hermione's secrets about what happened that night, especially when they involved admitting to caring for the girl in a way that he was not entirely sure Minerva would approve of.

"Well, she's done her best to help you these past months. You shouldn't have any trouble. I'm glad she's decided to stay and finish her seventh year. Intelligent girl, it will be nice for her to have a normal year—no trolls or basilisks or Dark Lords."

Snape grunted again, feeling guilty for not asking what her plans were in September_. __Stupid again, Severus._

"Well, here we are," McGonagal said, pointing to a door off the third floor corridor. "I think you'll find everything you need. I'll have the rest of your things moved down in the morning. You know where to find everything. Breakfast and orders are in the room off the Entrance Hall at eight-thirty."

"Thank you, Minerva," said Severus, opening the door to what would be his room for the next two months.

"Goodnight, Severus. It's nice to have you back with us," she said, then paused before turning away. "I'm sorry for calling you a coward."

"It's fine, Minerva," said Severus, stepping inside. "Goodnight."

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><p>Severus couldn't seem to get to sleep. He tossed and turned in his temporary quarters. There were no curtains on this bed, and the moonlight shone brightly through cracks in the window curtains, illuminating the room.<p>

It felt odd to be annoyed by moonlight when only yesterday he was contemplating life and death. And now he had another chance. He'd never really spent any time thinking about what he might do if he survived the war. For now, brewing potions seemed the right choice for a job. There were plenty of difficult potions he could brew for a steep price, and research he had always wanted to do but never had time for as a double-agent. But really, the possibilities were endless.

Would he see Hermione when he moved back to Spinner's End? Most likely she'd be locked in the library, studying for her NEWTs for the next year. But perhaps during her breaks? That was assuming she even wanted to see him. He didn't even know if she wanted a relationship. She said she loved him, and from her words and actions tonight it seemed she wanted to spend time with him, but that held no guarantees in the long-term. She didn't really know him, truly. Would she be as open and willing to be with him once she knew what kind of man he really was? Or would his difficult character drive her away?

He realized he hadn't thought this through at all. It was so… unlike him.

He had simply heard her crying for help, been given a nudge, and obliged.

_How Gryffindor of you, _Severus thought with a frown.

Snape rolled onto his back and lifted his left arm above him. Unlike in Limbo, the Dark Mark was still there, a faint scar that would brand him forever. He touched it, felt the smooth flesh beneath his fingertips. What would happen if Hermione saw him naked, saw his scars, his past etched into his skin?

_That__'__s if you don__'__t screw it all up before you get to the bedroom,_ his mind chided him cruelly.

He thought of this morning, her body pinned beneath his in the infirmary, her soft brown eyes staring up at him, not afraid but searching. She'd licked her lips, her mouth falling open, and he wondered what might have happened had Potter not interrupted them. Would she have let him kiss her?

He imagined what it would feel like to kiss the lips he'd been staring at over dinner. What would she have done, if he'd come around the table, taken her face in his hands and pressed his mouth to hers? What would _he_ have done, if she'd kissed him back, met his tongue with her own? She would have tasted dark, like wine and meat, her soft breasts pressing against his chest as he pulled her close.

Severus had to stifle a moan at the thought, and felt his cock spring to life, pressing against the soft fabric of his underwear.

It had been so long—so _very _long—since he'd allowed himself to get aroused. It had been too much of a distraction, too much of a reminder of Lily, and so he'd locked that part of him away with his mind for the past 20 years.

Tentatively, he grasped his penis beneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and felt a pulse of fire in his groin.

He began to rub himself, slowly, carefully, thinking of Hermione, and heard his breath thicken in his ears. He imagined having her warm, naked body pressed against his, imagined her kissing him, her hair enveloping his face. She would bite his lips, his ears, her fingers digging into his flesh as she rocked her hips back and forth on top of him as he plunged in and out of her wet channel.

He groaned as the pleasure grew, moving his hand faster, freeing himself from his underwear, feeling the fire growing in his balls. His hips bucked against his hand.

As he imagined her screaming his name in pleasure, whispering that she loved him, he threw his head back on the pillow and the flames exploded, surging outwards and up his spine, and he gasped audibly. He rode the wave of pleasure until he felt the flames ebbing and his cock growing soft in his hand, his milky semen covering his fist, dribbling onto his belly.

As his hand stilled, he let out a sigh, feeling the tension leave his body. He took off his underwear, using them to wipe himself down, and tossed them on the floor. Naked, he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, suddenly no longer bothered by the moonlight.


	16. Chapter 16: Dungeon Distractions

A/N: A couple people have commented on the fact I had Lily push Severus to come back. I'll just say that in my mind Severus does not trust his feelings, especially when it comes to love (this is actually very, very common for people who have suffered long-term abuse; you learn not to trust your own thoughts or decisions). I also think he needed to see her once more to really move on.

Thanks as always for your lovely reviews. We're taking two steps forward and one step back in this chapter. I promise things are moving forward, however. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 16: Dungeon Distractions<strong>

Hermione joined the others in the room off the Entrance Hall for breakfast.

Severus came in just as she was finishing her toast. He looked a bit tired, but otherwise the same as always: his black robes swished around him, his curved lips fixed into a sneer. Her heart did a little flip as she met his eyes across the room and he gave her the slightest nod.

A small group of students who had stayed to help with the castle were standing in a group in the corner near the door, and started whispering as soon as Severus entered, glancing at their old headmaster with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. Everyone was told about his reappearance yesterday, and his true role in the war had been reported widely, but this was the first any of the students besides Hermione had seen him. And of course this was Severus; he made people uncomfortable by his mere presence.

Neville, who was sitting next to her, leaned over and whispered, "He doesn't look like he was stuck in a grave, does he?"

"Mhmm," Hermione mumbled, more interested in watching Severus than appeasing Neville's curiosity. Apparently correctly deducing that the students were speaking about him, he shot them one of his signature glares, which produced instant silence. Hermione grinned to herself; apparently Limbo had not made Severus more tolerant of people talking about him.

Hermione continued watching as Severus moved on to breakfast. He plucked a piece of toast from the pile, applied a liberal helping of jam, and then ripped into it with his teeth, finishing it in four bites as his eyes scanned the room. Locking once more with Hermione's, he moved towards her, and her heart began to beat a little faster.

"May I?" he asked, motioning to the empty chair on her other side.

Hermione nodded, trying to not look too happy that he'd chosen to sit next to her. She'd done her best to be normal the night before over dinner. Somehow, 'so, did you really come back to life for me? Does that mean you like me? Because I love you and I'd be happy to skip dinner and have you screw me senseless instead,' didn't seem like quite the conversation to start with.

Severus's robes brushed Hermione's arm as he sat down, and Hermione had to stop herself from reaching out and stroking them. She'd expected to feel the texture of scratchy wool, but they were soft against her skin. She gripped at the hem of her shorts to stop her hands from acting of their own accord. Shaking her head to remove her rapidly inappropriate thoughts from her mind, she turned to Severus with a smile.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked him quietly.

Severus turned away from her and grunted, folding his arms over his chest. Hermione wasn't sure what she'd done, but got the hint that he wasn't in the mood to chat, so she put her hands on her knees and stared straight ahead, allowing her thoughts to take over while she waited for the meeting to start.

Had something happened since last night? Or had he decided after dinner that he wasn't interested in her? She didn't know how much of her confession in front of his grave he had heard, though she assumed it was most of it. Did he know that she loved him? If he did, had he not pursued her more aggressively because he didn't feel the same?

She'd thought dinner had gone well overall—he'd even said he hoped to have her company in the future and asked if he would see her in the morning. But he had also been apparently unmoved by her flirting, though that may have due to the fact she was admittedly abysmal when it came to seduction. However, she'd been hoping if she acted interested and gave him a hint of her feelings that he might reach across the table and touch her hand, or maybe ask her out on a date, or even kiss her (she would have liked that the most), but instead she got a stuttered apology for their moment in the infirmary—a moment she was definitely _not_ sorry for—and now he was ignoring her with determination even as he sat next to her.

_Yes, definitely a good thing I didn__'__t start by talking about love and sex._

Hermione let out a small sigh, allowing her eyes to wander to the dark wizard next to her, who was staring with what appeared to be great concentration at the maps on the wall.

Hermione didn't have time to contemplate his expression, however, as McGonagal emerged from the corner where she'd been speaking with Professors Flitwick, Sprout, Vector, and Hooch.

"Right, everyone, let's get started. New assignments today. We've made good progress over the past month," said McGonagal, raising her wand and tapping it to the maps on the walls. The Great Hall, entrance courtyard, Astronomy Tower, Headmaster's Tower, Quidditch Pitch, greenhouses and several other areas changed to green to show they were finished, and the letters showing the previous assignments were removed.

"We start the more difficult areas today. Flitwick's group will take the main staircase," she said, and Hermione watched the letter F appear over the location on the map. "Vector's will take the second floor, Sprout's the first floor, and Hooch's the perimeter." Each of the professor's letters appeared on the map as she spoke.

"And then there's the dungeons, which I hoped you might take care of, Mr. Snape, with the help of Miss Granger."

Severus's eyes flicked to Hermione for a moment, and then he nodded. McGonagal tapped her wand against the map once more, and SS appeared over the dungeons.

"You'll be wanting these, I'm afraid," said McGonagal, conjuring two pairs of tall rubber galoshes and handing them over.

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><p>"Well, at least it's not higher than our boots," said Hermione, trying to be positive as she waded into the flooded dungeon corridor. "There must be a leak somewhere."<p>

"A superb deduction," Severus drawled, but his eyes seemed more amused than angry as he rolled them upwards.

He took off his long robe and threw it up the stairs so it wouldn't get wet, then joined Hermione in the murky water. Underneath the robe he was wearing a dark grey button-up shirt and black slacks, which accentuated his strong shoulders and complimented his thin frame rather nicely, however odd they looked paired with rubber boots. Hermione didn't realize she was staring at him until Severus raised an eyebrow at her, and she quickly turned her head and marched down the corridor, her cheeks feeling hot.

Hermione hadn't bothered to wear her robes, silently thankful she had chosen to wear shorts, which would be far more comfortable if the water got deeper. She made her way down the corridor, the dirty water sloshing against her boots as she went, and she could hear Severus cutting through the flood behind her.

They found the source of the water at the very end of the hall, where part of the wall had been blasted inwards. Water was leaking slowly from the rocks beyond, making several tiny streams that slid down the masonry to the floor.

"I guess we'll have to put them back in place. Do you think they'll hold?" asked Hermione.

Severus came around her and examined the space in the wall, testing it with his wand. "A simple repair, I think. Hand me that stone, over there," he said, pointing to a large stone near the far wall.

The pair began working together in silence. Hermione wanted to talk to Severus, but had the distinct impression from breakfast that he was not interested in doing so. Instead she concentrated on levitating and organizing the fallen stones into neat piles within easy reach of Severus. He seemed likewise engrossed in repairing the wall, and so she was surprised when he spoke.

"Minerva said you will be returning to finish your seventh year," he said smoothly as he applied a layer of mortar with his wand and then fixed another stone in place.

"Yes, that's right," Hermione replied.

"Haven't you read the entire Hogwarts library yet?" asked Severus, and Hermione couldn't tell if he was insulting her or teasing her. Her experience said the former, but the way his lips twitched upwards in a small grin and the lack of scowl on his face told her otherwise.

"Speaking of libraries, you have quite the collection," she said, deciding the wisest course of action was to change the subject.

"I assume you are the reason my books have been alphabetized and organized by subject?" Severus drawled, stopping his work to raise an eyebrow at her.

"And by author," Hermione said with a blush. "They were going to be sent to the library before you came back. Actually, I still have a few in my room."

"Stealing from the dead? I didn't think you were the sort," said Severus with a wicked smile.

"I was just borrowing them!" Hermione yelped defensively.

"You can continue to borrow them if you wish," he said, his expression returned to one of passivity. "And remember what I told you last night: I have a sense of humour."

"I remember," said Hermione, feeling her cheeks flush. So he _was_ teasing her.

"Then I expect you to recognize when I'm using it," he said before turning back to the wall.

"I'm sorry, Severus. I'm just not used to you being anything other than serious," she said.

"That's because I don't waste jokes on dunderheaded students," he said smoothly. He looked at her for a moment and ran his fingers through his hair. "My humour is reserved for those I consider friends."

"Oh!" Hermione squeaked. _Did he just call me his friend? That__'__s good right? But__…_

"Can you bring me that large stone over there?" Severus asked, pointing down the corridor.

"O-Of course," stammered Hermione, her mind still stuck on Severus calling her his friend as she walked over and flicked her wand, raising the giant boulder into the air.

_I'm his friend. But just a friend? Not girlfriend? Lover? Significant other? Romantic interest? Special someone? _

_I thought when he said he came back for me, and the way he looked at me when he was on top of me… but maybe after last night… Am I not the kind of woman he'd be interested in? Maybe I'm too young. Or not pretty or sexy enough. Not smart or interesting enough. Not…_

_OW!_

Her thoughts returned to the hallway as the large rock she'd been levitating ricocheted off her skull, and she stumbled sideways, landing on her knees and palms with a splash. There was a sharp pain in her forehead and her knees felt scraped, and she struggled to rise out of the murky water.

Severus was at her side in three long strides, and he pulled her upwards, his arms hooked under her shoulders to support her weight.

"Pay attention to what you're doing!" he hissed. "You could have killed yourself!"

"I'm sorry," she said, feeling embarrassed. She was not making the impression she hoped. She lifted her hand and rubbed her temple, feeling blood on her fingers.

"Don't touch it," said Severus firmly, turning and drawing one of her arms around his shoulder and putting his own firmly around her waist. "Come in here," he said, and wordlessly opened the door to a nearby classroom, guiding her inside.

Hermione allowed herself to be supported by Severus's strong arms, feeling the heat of his body where it contacted her torso. If she turned her head slightly to the side, which she did, she could make out his scent: herbs, musk, sweat and just a hint of mint. He motioned towards a desk and then effortlessly lifted her onto it.

"You have quite the scratch," he said, looking at her with concern as his fingers traced her hairline. Her eyes fluttered closed at his touch, her heart beating rapidly. His fingertips were slightly calloused, but gentle, and she swallowed as they ran across her temple, down her cheek, and then disappeared in a whisper.

"Sit still while I heal this and your knees," he rumbled.

Hermione didn't dare move, leaving her eyes closed as Severus began to sing a beautiful incantation. She felt a sensation like warm water spreading across her forehead and then over her knees, and when he finished the spell, her pain was gone.

"I'm going to check for further injuries," he said, and then his hands were in her hair, lightly pressing against her skull. "Do you feel dizzy or strange at all? Any pain anywhere else?"

"No," said Hermione hoarsely, feeling a tingle go up her spine as his fingers felt around the soft part at the back of her neck. His head was awfully close to hers, and she could feel his warm breath against her face. With each exhalation against her skin, each gentle touch of his fingers, her heart began to hum a little faster.

Distracted though she was, she still thought it was odd when she heard the sound of water splashing from towards the door.

"How dare you! Gerroff her!" a man's voice yelled, and suddenly Severus was torn away from her. Hermione's eyes flew open and she instinctively went for her wand; but when she raised it in front of her to hex whatever had pulled Severus away, she noticed Ron, red-faced and panting by the door. He was pointing his wand at Severus, who was sneering dangerously, his own wand already in his hand.

"If you touch her again—" growled Ron.

"Ronald!" shouted Hermione, standing up from the desk.

Severus thrust his wand at Ron's chest, anger flickering behind his black eyes. "You'll do what, Weasley? Do you honestly think you can hurt me?"

Ron stood up to his full height, only an inch over Severus. "I've beaten other Death Eaters before, so I don't think you'll be too hard! And when I do, you will never go near her again!"

"While I'd be perfectly happy to send you to the hospital wing," drawled Severus smoothly, "I think Hermione can decide for herself who she wants around, don't you?"

Hermione saw Ron begin to move his wand and acted quickly.

"That's enough! Both of you!" she shouted, leaping between the wizards, who were still glaring at each other as if they wished nothing more than to fire several curses from their wands.

"Excuse me a minute, Severus," she said, turning to him with an apologetic smile before stomping over to Ron's side and grabbing his arm. "Ron, come with me—_now_!"

She pulled him out of the classroom, and into the one next door.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing?" She screeched.

"He was on you, Hermione! I saw the way he was touching you!" yelled Ron defensively.

"He was _helping_ me, Ron," huffed Hermione, glaring at him.

"Yeah, he was sure helping—himself by the looks of it!" shouted Ron, looking disgusted.

"So what if he was?" Hermione snapped, anger rising in her throat. "Last I checked, I'm a single woman!"

"I didn't mean you should go run off with that greasy git!" yelled Ron, his ears turning a bright crimson.

"_You_ broke up with _me_, Ronald! I can run off with whoever I like! And Severus is _not_ a greasy git!" said Hermione crossly, folding her arms over her chest. "Anyway, like I said, he was helping me."

"It didn't look that way," muttered Ron, looking at the floor.

"It doesn't matter what it looked like. I can take care of myself, Ronald," said Hermione firmly, still feeling rage bubbling inside her. "Why are you here, anyway?" she snapped.

"I wanted to say sorry for the other night," said Ron quietly. He looked up once more, and Hermione was startled to see the hurt in his eyes. "I love you, Hermione."

Normally Hermione would have simply yelled at him and stomp off in frustration, but she could not quite bear to see him looking so forlorn and dejected as he did now. Hermione may not have loved Ron enough to marry him, but she did care about him as a friend.

She sighed at her own weakness, feeling her anger melt from her shoulders like snow in the warm spring sun. "I forgive you," she said.

"Really?" said Ron, looking hopeful.

"Yes, Ron," she said. "And I love you too, but…"

She bit her lip. She'd been thinking about their fight since she spoke to Harry, wondering what she would say when she next saw Ron, if she really wanted their relationship to be over. She'd thought she'd wanted him more than any other man, but the distance between them had been growing since the end of the war, since their kiss in the castle on the day Voldemort had died; in reality it had started before then, though she hadn't realized it at the time.

She wasn't sure she could be with a man who didn't believe in her, who didn't trust her. Today was only more proof of that fact.

"I know you don't want to marry me yet. That's okay. Whenever you're ready, Hermione. No pressure from now on, I promise," said Ron in a rush.

It was true she didn't want to hurt Ron, but she knew it would hurt more if she continued to lead him on, to let him believe there was hope when she knew that her heart already belonged to someone else—even if that someone else didn't know it yet and had been confusing the hell out of her for the past two days.

"I—I'm sorry, Ron. I…" she paused, taking a breath, gathering her courage, "I just want to be friends."

Ron looked heartbroken. His hands hung limply by his sides, and his gaze dropped to the water at their feet once more.

"But I love you, and you love me," he said, sounding confused.

"I know, Ron, but not in that way anymore. Something's changed for me. Being together doesn't feel right anymore," Hermione tried to explain.

Ron opened and closed his mouth as if trying to say something, but nothing came out.

She felt awful, like a real bitch, for breaking Ron's heart. He didn't deserve it, really.

"We'll still be friends, right? I don't think I could live losing you as a friend too," said Hermione, tears forming in her eyes. She knew he may never want to see her after this, but prayed it wouldn't happen. They'd been through so much together, certainly this couldn't be the thing to tear their friendship apart.

"I—Of course, Hermione," said Ron, forcing a smile.

She hugged him hard, crying onto his shoulder. He put his arms around her, his head resting against hers. "Oh, Ron, when did it all get so complicated?"

"I dunno," said Ron blankly.

"Promise me we'll still be friends?"

"Promise," he said, smiling weakly at her.

Hermione could only hope he meant it. She released Ron from the hug and wiped her eyes, thinking now the best thing she could do was give him some space. Thankfully she had an excuse to leave.

"Well, I should get back to work," she said awkwardly.

"Yeah," said Ron, looking down at his jeans, which were slowly soaking up more water as he stood in the flooded classroom.

Hermione walked over to the door, looking back. "Goodbye, Ron."

"Bye, Hermione."

And then she left him.


	17. Chapter 17: Mind Games

**Chapter 17: Mind Games**

Severus paced back and forth in the dungeon classroom, waiting to see if Hermione would return.

To his great irritation, one thing seemed to have remained constant from his old life to this one: He could not seem to do anything without Potter or his friends getting in the way. It would be quite all right, of course, if Hermione got in the way, but then she wouldn't exactly be in the way since she was what he wanted in the first place. Not like Potter and Weasley, blundering, insufferable idiots that they were. No, they could bloody well bugger off. Minerva too, for that matter.

Though, he supposed, if he was in a relationship with Hermione in the future, he would have to get used to seeing Potter and Weasley. An image of himself wrapped in Gryffindor colours while stuck between several rowdy, singing redheads suddenly filled his mind, making him shudder.

_That_ was a complication he would have to deal with at a later date. If he was with Hermione, maybe her friends would be worth putting up with. Potter, at least, seemed far less irritating now than when he was a student. Weasley on the other hand…

Another terrible thought entered his mind then that made him pause his steps: _What if she is renewing her relationship with Weasley at this very moment? They could be kissing on the other side of the door! _

Severus's urge to hex something was almost overwhelming.

Weasley was her own age, after all; and, though oblivious, it was obvious that they'd had feelings for each other since third year. But he'd always thought Hermione was far too smart to end up with either of her best friends, at least not long-term. They were both good enough boys at heart, even he would admit that, but Hermione was really something special. Severus was fairly certain Potter would have died one hundred times over without her. She deserved a man, not a boy: someone who would match her intellect, challenge her, be devoted to her.

_Like you? _his mind asked, its tone annoyingly sarcastic.

Severus frowned. Why must his own brain always insult him so? _Shut up_, he told it.

He went back to pacing, and his mind went instead to this morning. When she'd asked him how he'd slept, he could only think of what he'd done the night before; he couldn't exactly tell her he'd imagined violating her person in order to pleasure himself, couldn't tell her that sitting next to her made him want to the things he'd been imagining for real, so he'd clamped his mouth shut and tried to concentrate on the maps on the wall in order to prevent himself from doing something that would undoubtedly embarrass them both.

Then he'd tried to imply that he thought of her as something more. But from the fact that she'd practically hurled a boulder at her head, it was clear he'd said the wrong thing.

_Either that, or the thought of being with you makes her want to bludgeon herself_.

_I said shut up! _

He'd nearly had a heart attack when he heard the smack of the rock hitting her beautiful head. And yet, once he'd realized she was okay it had felt good to have her next to him, to run his fingers through her soft curls. She didn't need to know that he'd lingered a little longer than was medically necessary to ensure she was okay; He'd been seconds away from giving in to his urge to kiss her eyelids when the blasted Weasley boy had pulled him away.

_You never would have let someone sneak up on you like that before. _

This time he couldn't tell his brain to shut up; That fact was true. Limbo had changed him. Or perhaps that wasn't quite accurate: Hermione had changed him. Limbo was the place, but she was the reason. When he stood near her, his carefully-tuned defences seemed to soar away. He only hoped that Weasley was the worst thing he would have to worry about in this new life.

Severus was about to give up hope on Hermione returning and go back to work when she walked into the room, her eyes slightly puffy and looking as though she'd been crying.

_If the boy hurt her__… _He felt anger bubbling like a spring inside him, but blocked it up like the walls in the hall. He yearned to curse the boy into oblivion, but he was fairly certain that Hermione was not the type of woman to be impressed by violence.

"I'm really sorry about Ron," she said, adding, "Don't worry. He's gone." She forced a smile.

_Something happened_, thought Severus. _But what?_

"Is everything all right?" he asked.

"Oh, yes—well, I told Ron I just wanted to be friends. So, we're over. Officially," she said firmly, as though to partly confirm the truth to herself. "It's for the best."

Inside Severus's heart felt like it was doing cartwheels of joy, but he stilled his features into a passive frown.

_Just because she's not with Weasley, doesn't mean she's yours._

_For the last bloody time, shut up! _

She may not be his yet, but it meant he still had a chance. That was why he had chosen the door he had in Limbo, after all: for a chance... a chance to be with her. So he clutched it with his mind, gave Hermione what he hoped was a heartening smile, and said, "I'm sure, as you say, it's for the best."

* * *

><p>"Neville was the one who killed Nagini—with Gryffindor's Sword," said Hermione as she cast a Sealing Charm over a section of newly repaired wall. It was just over a week since Severus had returned to life, and the pair was still in the dungeons. Hermione had spent the morning explaining what had happened during the Battle of Hogwarts after Severus's unfortunate almost-demise.<p>

"Longbottom?" Severus asked. That seemed unlikely, but who was he to say? He hadn't been there, after all.

"Don't die of shock now; We only just got you back from the dead," Hermione said with a chuckle. "I think that's all of the leaks finally plugged."

"About time," grumbled Severus, and with two waves of his wand the water in the hallway disappeared and his galoshes turned into a pair of black loafers. His feet felt like they were melting into the soft leather shoes and he gave a contended grunt.

Hermione smiled, transfiguring her own boots into a pair of purple sneakers.

"Well, that's a definite improvement," she said, and was tucking her wand back into her pocket when a noise like a screeching piglet filled the hallway.

Severus wasn't sure what it was, so he put his finger to his lips in a sign of silence, and motioned for Hermione to follow him. They tiptoed down the hall and stood in front of a storeroom door where the creature was still wailing and banging against walls.

"On three, I'll open the door," whispered Severus, looking at Hermione. She nodded, her wand ready.

"One. Two. Three."

The door had only creaked open a few centimetres when a sticky blackness enveloped Severus's face. He stumbled backwards, unable to breathe, what felt like tentacles clamped hard over his nose and mouth.

Before he could cast a spell he heard Hermione shout, "Relashio!" and the creature let go, bouncing onto the floor. Severus recognized it instantly as a Grindylow, and it scrambled on its many flailing legs towards him once more.

"Stupefy!" he shouted, and the creature stopped, frozen near the floor.

"Little bastard," Severus spat, feeling his face covered in slime, which he wiped on the arm of his shirt. He looked down, frowning: damn thing had also slimed his brand new shoes.

"I guess he wasn't too happy about having his new home vanished," said Hermione, who he could tell was trying not to laugh.

"He'll be even less happy where he's going next," said Severus, pointing his wand at the Grindylow. "Evanesco," he said, and the little creature popped satisfyingly out of existence.

Severus gave a satisfied smirk towards the now empty floor.

"You know, I never believed anyone when they called you 'slimy,' but this may be proof," said Hermione solemnly, and Severus's lips instantly drooped into a deep frown.

He knew that his students often called him by one or more unflattering monikers, but he'd never heard one come from Hermione's mouth before. He could not help but feel slightly panicked that he'd apparently done something to inspire her to do so. The last several hours played on ultra fast-forward in his mind, but he could pinpoint nothing that might make Hermione think so poorly of him.

She couldn't have some strange adoration of Grindylows, could she? He knew about her house elf campaign; she hadn't started the Grindylow Defense League at the same time, had she?

"You're slimy, Severus," she said, and if Severus had been paying attention to her movements instead of her words, he would have seen her gesture with her chin towards his hairline.

_Apologize! Yell! Do something, you fool!_

He flinched when he felt soft fingers travelling across his forehead, and his eyes finally focused on Hermione as her digits came away from his face covered in a sticky yellow-tinged goo.

"Like I said, slime," she said with a small grin.

_You are a fool! She meant actual slime, you idiot! _

Severus let out a breath, now feeling properly embarrassed at the way his mind had jumped to conclusions. Of course Hermione would not insult him in such a way. She was a Gryffindor, after all; If she was angry or hurt, she'd be screaming at him louder than the homeless Grindylow.

He took his wand from his pocket and cast a quick Tergeo over himself before turning away from her and attempting to control the flush he felt crawling slowly up his cheeks at his stupidity. Exhaling in a low growl, he stomped down the corridor, half-wishing he still had a room around the corner to disappear into.

He heard her footsteps run up behind him, and then a small hand gripped his arm. When he turned around he could not completely hide the humiliation in his eyes, even as he tried to push his feelings away with his Occlumency.

"I'm sorry if I wasn't clear," she said. "I don't think you're slimy, Severus. Not at all."

She seemed to realize that she still had a hold of his arm then, and dropped her hand to her side, where it began anxiously picking at the hem of her shorts.

"I should be the one apologizing," he said solemnly.

"No, don't!" Hermione squeaked. "Please don't. You haven't done anything wrong."

"I have. I told you to trust that I have a sense of humour, which you have done, and yet I did not trust yours," he said, his face finally fixed into a firm stare. "I should have realized your meaning, so I apologize."

"Oh, well, I'm really not very good at making jokes," said Hermione. "It was an honest mistake. I really should stick to speaking about academics."

"Don't insult yourself, Hermione," said Severus with a frown. "I won't have you belittling yourself for my benefit. In any case, I quite enjoy your jokes." _And your beautiful smile when you laugh._

A small blush crept up Hermione's pale cheeks, and the smile he found so striking spread across her lips like a bird taking flight. It lifted his mental shields along with it, and Severus felt his insecurity fade into her bright blue sky.

"Shall we get back to work?" he asked with a small smile of his own.

"All right," said Hermione. "But if we hear anything else screaming in a closet, I am opening the door."

"The privilege is all yours," said Severus with a deep chuckle, and together they set off down the hall.


	18. Chapter 18: Plan of Attack

**Chapter 18: Plan of Attack**

Hermione was horrified when Severus reacted badly to her teasing about being slimy. She had meant it as a joke, an (admittedly poor) attempt at flirtation, but somewhere along the way—no, at the very beginning—her real message was lost and Severus believed she was insulting him.

Of course like an idiot she hadn't even noticed he was upset until he was practically running down the hallway away from her.

The situation had turned out all right, thank goodness. He'd even complimented her, something she knew Severus Snape did not do out of courtesy. But it still made her feel horrible.

It would have been so much better if he'd picked up on her flirting when she'd wiped the slime from his slightly crinkled forehead.

She spent that evening imagining what might have happened if he had: Severus wiping a long smudge of yellow along her jaw with a cheeky smirk on his lips and mischief in his eyes. Fighting back, and the subsequent play as they grabbed at each other's bodies. Then, panting and bursting with pent up desire, Severus pushing her against the wall, or ending up on the dungeon floor, their bodies sliding over each other…

Not that she would ever mention these thoughts to Severus. They were ones best kept to herself and thought of only when locked safely in her dormitory, which was where she found herself sitting cross-legged in her pajamas, thinking once more about the day in the dungeons when he'd called her his friend, mulling over what it meant.

It had been a fortnight since that day. Their work together in the dungeons had continued amicably as they repaired more walls; mended broken and water-logged furniture in the classrooms, his old office, and the Slytherin common room; replenished the potions store; and destroyed and replaced any items that could not be saved.

For the most part, they did act as friends. Sometimes they worked silently, and sometimes they chatted about a potion, spell, or note Hermione had read in his books, or an article that had come out in _The Daily Prophet_. They told jokes, shared stories, ate food together—all things that Hermione would do with any other friend, though of course Severus meant much more to her than that.

But was that how Severus would act with a friend?

She hadn't seen him act friendly very often, not even in his memories. The closest he ever got to what she would consider friendly behaviour in his collection of silver bottles was with his colleagues at Hogwarts, and even that was a stretch.

And yet, ever since he'd come back, instead of gravitating towards the other professors, his attention had been entirely on her. He was pulled into conversations with McGonagal and the other teachers occasionally, but he'd always return to Hermione's side, would always seek her out during meals and break times. They'd even spent the previous Saturday in Hogsmeade, drinking at the Three Broomsticks and browsing Tomes and Scrolls. Yet since their first couple days together, he'd never made an attempt to be physical, never flirted the way she'd come to expect from those few males who had shown interest in her; he'd never again touched her cheek or run his fingers through her hair; he never tried to hold her hand or put his arm around her; he'd definitely never kissed her, or she would not still be sitting in her bed trying to figure out if he liked her that way.

Their time together seemed a trail of contradictions, Severus's feelings a mystery she could not yet solve.

"Come on, Hermione. You're supposed to be good at puzzles and feelings," she muttered quietly to herself, and Crookshanks meowed softly in reply from where he was curled up next to her legs.

"I know, Crooks. But it's not like I can ask him what he meant," she said ruefully, slumping forward to rest her elbows on her knees

The half-Kneazle gave a series of short, chirped meows and then poked her hand with his paw. Hermione obligingly began stroking his fur as she continued to think out loud.

"Do you think Severus likes me, Crookshanks?" Hermione said with a sigh.

Crookshanks purred loudly, rubbing his cheek along her fingers.

"I'd like to think so too," she said, rubbing her feline under the chin, to which he closed his eyes, his rumbled purrs growing louder. "But then why did he call me his friend? And why hasn't he made a move? Isn't it obvious I like him?"

Crookshanks only flopped onto his back, exposing his fluffy belly, his paws making kneading motions in the air.

"Oh, you're no help!" Hermione chuckled, her fingers disappearing in his thick fur as she lost herself in her thoughts again.

_"My humour is reserved for those I consider friends," _said his deep voice, reverberating in her mind.

_If only Severus was a book. Something easy to read and understand, like History of Magic: no art or calculations, only facts to remember and recall. _

Hermione thought Severus was more like a book written in Ancient Runes, each one needing to be carefully considered in relation to the one next to it before translating, else the entire sentence could turn to gibberish.

Was it possible she'd mistranslated the word friend?

The words around it would have her believe not.

But maybe there was more to it than words.

_Of course there is. Severus is human. Not just that, Severus is a Slytherin. It's _never_ just about the words._

_So what else is there?_

Hermione closed her eyes and brought up Severus in her mind, the way he'd been that day when he'd called her friend.

She recalled the tone of his voice, smooth and even. _Nothing that would make me translate friend otherwise there._

His body language was stiff and slightly tense, but that was not out of the ordinary. But his body was turned away, and he scrubbed his fingers through his hair, which said nerves to her._ But that was because he was offended that I'd not understood his joke, right?_

His face wore a half-sneer, but was otherwise relaxed and passive.

Then there was his eyes. His eyes were the most difficult piece to decipher, black and bottomless as they were. Wishing she had a pensieve, she concentrated hard to remember his eyes as he said the words.

_"My humour is reserved for those I consider friends." _

_There. A slight fear in his eyes, and something else glittering in the blackness. Stars in a midnight sky._

_It was... desire?_

_Fear and desire._

Hermione sat up with a jerk and blinked, her heart taking off at a rapid sprint as her mind discovered the final clue that unlocked the rune and the sentence that was with it.

"Oh my God, Crookshanks, I am so daft: Severus _does_ like me!" Hermione squealed and drew her feline into an affectionate hug. The ginger beast purred and nuzzled her hand with his wet nose.

Forcing her heart to slow in order to stop it from exploding with excitement, she wondered what to do now that she understood he wanted her.

_Oh Merlin, he wants me…_

_No, save that for later, Hermione. You need a plan or you'll be stuck alone with your hand down your jammies forever._

There was just under six weeks until the start of term, which meant that if she didn't do something soon, he'd be gone and she'd be trying to seduce him via owl post, which seemed a rather lame way to tell someone your feelings.

With Ron she'd waited for him to make the first move, and he'd ended up with Lavender before they finally sort of came to an understanding. And Hermione was not going to be satisfied with 'sort of' this time.

She wanted it all. She wanted Severus to be hers completely, and to give herself to him in return.

And there was no way she was waiting around for another near-death experience or a Triwizard Tournament before kissing him.

So, the question was how to do it: how to tell him that she loved him, and it was safe for him to express his feelings in return.

Many witches would probably simply pounce on him in the dungeons, but that hardly seemed appropriate given the level of her feelings for the man. Besides, she didn't want anyone walking in on them, and that was clearly a potential considering the Ronald incident.

She almost wished Ginny was around to talk to—the girl was a downright vixen compared to Hermione—but the thought of asking her friend how to confess to Severus Snape, which would undoubtedly lead to said vixen telling Harry and Ron, was enough to make Hermione bury her head in Crookshanks' fur.

Her mother, in reality, would have been her best source of information on how to approach Severus. Not only could Hermione picture herself telling her mother her feelings, the woman had been begging for Hermione to get a serious boyfriend for years. Hermione smiled sadly as she remembered the summer after fourth year when she'd admitted to dancing with and kissing Viktor Krum; her mother had literally squealed she was so excited, and had made Hermione describe the kiss in excruciating detail (at this point, her father had conveniently found something outside that needed to be attended to immediately). She knew if she told her mother about Severus, about how she thought she loved him, the vivacious dentist would have helped Hermione create a formal 52-step plan of attack.

However, seeing as her mother was currently in Australia and believed Hermione to be a crazy burglar, that option went out the window almost as quickly as telling Ginny.

Her human sources for relationship advice discounted, Hermione turned to the only other place she could think of that might provide suitable information on how to tell a man you loved him.

Setting Crookshanks down on the bed, she skipped down to the common room, where she pulled from a box several very worn copies of _Witch Weekly. _Then she flopped into her favourite chair by the fire and started reading.


	19. Chapter 19: Believe Her

A/N: This morning I opened my story manager to see 101 reviews and 101 followers on this fic. I know compared to other fics that's not much, but this is a big milestone for me and so I want to thank all of you, my readers, for your time and appreciation. I feel really lucky and happy to have such great readers.

I believe this chapter will be more than adequate payment for your patience and dedication. Thank you again, and I hope you enjoy it.

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><p><strong>Chapter 19: Believe Her<strong>

It was a Friday, hot even in the dungeons, when they finally finished the repairs of the castle's lowest floor.

"I think that's all of it," Hermione said, as she performed a final Scouring Charm on the classroom they were in.

He smirked at how proud she looked with her hands on her hips, sweat beading across her brow, surveying the classroom appreciatively.

"We should celebrate," she said decisively.

"What did you have in mind? A glass of pumpkin juice?" Severus asked, intrigued, and yet finding himself unable to resist teasing her. Thankfully, she seemed to enjoy the games he played with words.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Please, Severus, do you really think I'm that boring?"

"Will you prove me otherwise?" he drawled, his lips curling into a small grin. Of course, she was far from boring to him, but he relished what she might come up with from his challenge.

Hermione met his gaze, her eyes flickering mischievously. "Meet me down at the lake in an hour," she said coyly, and Severus realized it was not a question—not that he would have done anything but agree.

An hour later, Severus found Hermione on the lawn by the lake, sitting on a red blanket. She had a small lidded basket with her, and had showered and changed. She was wearing a soft yellow dress, and had her hair partially pulled back into a bun, the rest of her curls flowing down her back. It was a simple look, but Severus thought she looked stunning, her pale skin glowing radiantly in the summer sun.

She was muttering something to herself, her hands fidgeting in her lap as he approached.

"Smashing party," drawled Severus as he came near, though he was secretly glad it was just the two of them.

Hermione jumped, but then quickly settled herself and turned to him with a bright smile. "Very funny, Severus," she said. "I thought we'd have a little picnic."

She patted the blanket, and he sat next to her, wondering what she had planned—for this little picnic had clearly been planned.

Severus wasn't sure what to expect. He'd never attended a picnic before. It certainly was not something his parents would have done (spending time together or eating food were not things that often happened at Spinner's End), and the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters hadn't been exactly the picnicking types.

Severus had showered too and had changed into a dark green robe paired with his usual black shirt and slacks. He'd decided shortly after returning that perhaps a little colour in his wardrobe might be wise now that he wanted to attract the attention of Hermione (and no longer needed the intimidating presence that he had chosen his all-black clothing to assist with), though he still preferred dark colours. Hermione had complimented him on his new robe the first day he had worn it, her dark caramel eyes glittering the same way they had when he'd removed his robe their first morning down in the dungeons. It was a look that made his heart swoop into his stomach.

Hermione opened her picnic basket, which had obviously been extended with a charm, as she pulled out a platter of meat and cheese, a baguette, a plate of fruit, wine glasses, and two bottles of wine (one white, one red).

"I thought we should do something special," she said, blushing slightly.

"It looks delicious," said Severus honestly. _And perhaps a little romantic, _he hoped. "Where did you get all this?"

"A woman doesn't tell her secrets," she quipped, waggling her eyebrows at him.

"Did you see the article in _The Daily Prophet_ today about the new potion Dexter McTavish invented?" she asked as she pulled two plates out of the basket and handed one to him.

"That man has never brewed a decent potion in his life," Severus replied, putting the plate next to him and tasking himself with opening a bottle of wine (white, which he knew from watching Hermione during dinners in the Great Hall was her preference, though he preferred red). "Five years ago he said he successfully brewed a Wisdom Elixir, and all it did was give people the hiccups. I don't know why they keep publishing him in the _Prophet_. He's never been accepted in _The Practical Potioneer _or _Potions Quarterly._"

He poured Hermione a glass of wine, who nodded in thanks. She took a grape and piece of cheddar, sliding them into her mouth perhaps a little more slowly than was necessary. Severus swallowed watching her pouting lower lip.

"Mmm, it's good, Severus," said Hermione, looking at him from the corner of her eye. "Please help yourself."

Pulling his eyes away from her lips, he ripped a chunk of bread, spread brie on it (_Where did she get brie at Hogwarts?_), put a piece of venison sausage on top, and bit into it. "This is… above average," he said, taking another bite.

"From you, I'll take that as an outstanding compliment," said Hermione with a laugh. "I'm glad you like it."

They continued chatting, eating Hermione's delicious spread and sipping wine until the sun began to set behind the Forbidden Forest. With the sun gone, the air began to cool, and Hermione shivered in her light dress.

"You're cold," said Severus. It was a statement, not a question.

"Maybe a little," said Hermione, rubbing her arms. "I didn't think to bring a jacket. It was so warm earlier."

"Take my robe," said Severus, pulling at the clasp.

His hands were stilled by the touch of Hermione's fingers, which pulled them away from his robe. He looked at her, startled by her touch, and nearly fainted when she shuffled herself next to him and pulled his robe around her shoulders.

"We can share," she said, and to his surprise, she put her head on his shoulder.

"You can relax, Severus, I'm not going to bite you," she said, her voice slightly wobbly.

He let out the breath he'd been holding since she touched his hand, and carefully moved his arm around her into a more comfortable position, barely willing to believe what was happening. He could feel the warmth of her body radiating into his own, and didn't dare move when she snuggled her head further against him.

They sat for a while in silence, watching the lake grow darker in the fading light, and Severus felt himself begin to relax. The stars began popping into existence above them like a million tiny wand-lights, and he felt Hermione let out a long breath.

"Why were you stuck in Limbo for so long?" she asked, and Severus could feel the hum of her voice against his side as she spoke.

"I was not stuck, so much as undecided," said Severus honestly, his eyes focused on the reflection of the stars mirrored in the stillness of the black lake.

"What made you finally decide?" Hermione asked.

Severus looked down Hermione, her curly hair brushing his chin as her head rested peacefully on his shoulder, like it was meant to be there.

"You," he answered gruffly. He expected her to pull away in shock, but when she remained by his side he allowed himself to breathe.

"I used to talk to you at your grave," she said quietly.

"I know," said Severus, his voice filled with affection at the memory of her spilling her thoughts to him.

"I didn't think you could hear me," she said nervously.

"I could," he replied. _And thank Merlin I could._

"You heard everything, then?"

"I did," he said, and he found himself turning towards her, moving so he could look into her eyes. He brought his hand up and touched her cheek, her flesh soft beneath his fingers. "You asked me to come back. You said you…" _love me__—_He couldn't seem to say it out loud—"…had certain feelings for me."

"I meant it," she whispered. Her eyes stared into his, honey-brown and full of desire. She brought her hand behind his neck, into his hair, and it was like fireworks going off in his brain. His heart drummed and his nerves danced in anticipation. She was so close, her chest pressed against his side. He wanted to envelope her, to kiss her, to pull her hips against him, but he forced himself to clear his mind.

"Hermione," he spoke in a deep rumble. "Are you sure? I can't offer you much…"

Hermione leaned forward, her lips pressing softly into his own. They were tender and warm, tasted better than he ever could imagined.

As their lips parted, Hermione said, "I'm sure," with a soft smile.

If Severus was any other man, he would have accepted her at that simple statement, but he couldn't. He took her gently by the wrists and pushed her backwards so they could see each other more clearly. She looked slightly shocked, unsure, and he let her wrists go. He touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers, traced down her jaw, and she closed her eyes.

"Hermione," he began. "Before this—we—can happen, I need you I need to tell you some things."

Hermione blinked. "Tell me. Anything," she said breathily.

He gently moved so that they were facing each other on the blanket, and took her hand in his own, terrified that she would leave when he told her the memory he had not included in the dozens she had seen, told her the feelings that went with the ones he did.

It would mean exposing himself in a way he had never done before, nor imagined himself ever doing, but he needed to tell her. If she was going to be with him, she had to know everything—_everything_. Only then could he accept her decision.

So he stole his heart for the inevitable, tried to memorize the feeling of her next to him so he could recall it later when he was alone, rejected, and cleared his mind so he could concentrate on what he needed to say, pushing his desire away for the moment.

"I know you have seen my memories, and you think you know who I am, but there are some things… some reasons…" he began.

"Severus, I—"

Severus put up a hand to silence her, and her words halted. "Please just let me get this out," he said firmly, and she nodded.

"As you know, my family was very poor. My father was violent, but my mother refused to leave him. I was angry all the time. I hated my father, hated how he abused my mother. But mostly I hated myself for not being able to stop him from hurting her.

"You know about Lily. She was the only happy part of my childhood. I think I loved her from the moment I saw her on that swing…

"I was so happy to go to Hogwarts, but it was no different. James and Sirius, others… all I could think of was how, for some reason, I could never escape. I felt weak and hopeless.

"It was Lucius who first approached me about joining the Death Eaters. He was always kind to me, in his own way. It felt good to be wanted. I felt powerful instead of weak. I thought my anger made me stronger. I thought that if I was powerful, that Lily would want me, that I could protect my mother.

"I did so many terrible things; I tortured countless, told things I promised to keep secret, did nothing when people were killed in front of my eyes. I thought I was growing more powerful, but the anger and fear only continued to grow inside me. So I got wilder, tried harder for the Dark Lord, thinking he was my escape," Severus paused, waiting for Hermione to pull away, but she only rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb, waiting patiently for him to go on.

"My father killed my mother, Hermione. He made her get into a car with him while he was blind drunk and they crashed. That bastard killed her and he couldn't even die along with her. I tried to kill him, but I couldn't," his voice shuffled closer, putting a hand on his chest. He could feel the warmth spreading from her palm, reaching inside him, but he forced his mind to calm, forced himself to keep talking.

"I told Lucius about it, thinking he was my friend. But instead of comforting me, he did what only a Death Eater would do: he brought my father to me, tortured him in front of me. The bastard spat at me, told me he'd wished he'd never had me, that I was a worthless piece of scum and he was ashamed to call me his son."

"Oh, Severus," said Hermione sadly, but he ignored her and moved on.

"I wanted to kill him. I wanted to so badly, but all I could do was walk away. I was cowardly beyond my imagination; I couldn't kill him myself, and I couldn't bring myself to save him either. So I left him there with Lucius and the others, and they tortured him and killed him for me.

"Shortly after that I told Voldemort about the prophecy. I was so stupid, so naive," he dropped his head, not daring to look Hermione in the eyes, looking at her hand on his chest instead. He was sure her face would be full of shock and scorn, but still he went on. She had to know who he really was.

"I begged Dumbledore to save her, but even then I was selfish. It was only Lily I cared for—not James, not Harry. I knew I was wrong, I was weak, I was cowardly, but I begged him.

"You know, of course, that I became a spy for Dumbledore. I knew he was using me, but I believed I was doing something good, that I could change. Except at the core, I have always remained the same. I am my father's son; his blood flows through me like poison. His weakness and his cruelty. You saw me as a professor. I told myself I was harsh because that's what my students needed, that I needed to favour my house to show the Death Eaters I was still one of them, but in truth I didn't want anyone to know my weakness—that I was scared of those children. I was scared they would see through me!

"I did my best to protect the school, and Harry, after Dumbledore passed, but in the end, all I could do to was give Harry the truth that Dumbledore gave to me. The terrible truth. In the end, I couldn't protect Lily, or Harry, or you, or anyone else," he looked up, then, into Hermione's eyes.

"I am so very sorry. I wish I was a better man, Hermione, but I'm not. I want to be with you terribly, but you must know who I really am. I am weak, Hermione, and broken. I will give you everything I have, but I fear it will never be enough, that I will hurt you in the end," he said, and he realized he was crying when Hermione reached up and brushed the tears from his cheeks.

"Thank you for telling me, Severus, but you're wrong about who you are," she said, and he saw her eyes were not angry, but soft and kind.

"How can you say that? I've done so many horrible things. All I do is hurt the people I love. I will hurt you too," Severus choked, screwing his eyes up in pain.

"Look at me, Severus," said Hermione, taking his face in her hands and his eyes snapped open. "I don't care about who you were. I care about who you _are_—now—and you are a kind, brave and intelligent man. You are a _good_ man," she said firmly. "We all make mistakes, bad choices. I've made them too. You've more than made up for yours. Just look at your death: you were given a chance in Limbo. If that doesn't show you who you really are, in your soul, then nothing will.

"I know you might not believe me yet, but I care about you, Severus. I want to be with you. The last few weeks have confirmed that for me. I trust that you won't hurt me."

"Hermione," he breathed. It didn't seem possible that such a talented, intelligent, and beautiful witch could ever want to be with him, could ever believe in him what he could not believe in himself.

But then she was kissing him, and the fireworks were going off again. This time, he refused to push her away; refused to do to her what he had done to Lily, to so many others. He didn't understand what he did to deserve her, but she wanted him.

As her tongue pushed into his mouth, he felt the knot in his chest—the one that had been there as long as he remembered—release. He felt hope bubbling up like a spring inside him.

He opened his mouth, let his tongue touch hers. _Oh, she tastes so sweet. _

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She pressed herself into him as their tongues twisted together, breath flowing hard and ragged. She had her hands in his hair, pulling him to her.

After a few minutes, their lips parted, and Hermione sank beside him and put her head on his shoulder once more. He stroked her hair, feeling her shiver at his touch, and he wrapped his robe around her protectively.

He decided, then and there, that he would be the man she thought he was. He would be a good man for her. He would do anything to keep her happy, to keep her trust, to keep her from becoming a liar.

"You're sure?" he asked once more.

"I'm sure," she replied. This time he believed her.


	20. Chapter 20: Lips

A/N: Thank you for all the kind reviews! I am so glad you all enjoyed the last chapter. Severus and Hermione are together, but we still have a long ways to go. Believe it or not, we aren't even half way through!

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><p><strong>Chapter 20: Lips<strong>

The stars glittered brightly in the inky black sky as Hermione snuggled closer to Severus on their picnic blanket near the lake. Hermione felt a thrill go through her as he adjusted his embrace around her and couldn't help but smile.

So many nights had she looked at the same stars and thought about Severus, wished for him for him to be alive, and now here he was by her side with his arm around her… and she'd kissed him—twice! More than that: they were together.

"Do you think the centaurs are right," said Hermione, feeling Severus turn his head above her as she spoke, "that our destiny is foretold is in the stars?"

"If it is, I owe the stars a thank you," he said, his breath tickling her hair as he spoke, which sent a pleasant vibration from the top of her head down to her toes.

"Are you cold? Should we go back to the castle?"

"No," Hermione replied, unwilling to be cold so long as Severus was next to her.

Severus cleared his throat and Hermione shifted slightly so she could look at him.

"Would you like to go to dinner tomorrow?" he asked.

"Could we do breakfast instead?" she answered, a guilty twinge ruining her utter happiness for a moment. "I didn't exactly plan this well. Harry's birthday party is tomorrow night. I'm supposed to spend the weekend there."

_Please don't be mad._

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'd really rather go to dinner with you."

"We can go to dinner next Saturday," said Severus. "Breakfast with you tomorrow sounds perfect."

"You could come with me to Grimmauld Place, if you wanted," Hermione said, thinking it unlikely that Harry would protest Severus's company; he seemed to be opening up more and more to the fact that Severus was far more than his former classroom persona.

"As much as I would adore spending the weekend with you, I think it would be best if I remain here at the castle," he said carefully. "I imagine your friends may not be the most welcoming of my company."

"They'll like you, Severus, once they get to know you like I do," said Hermione. "Harry already does."

Severus look unconvinced and shook his head. "Trust me. It's better if I stay," he said, and Hermione decided not to argue the point further.

_Perhaps it__'__s for the best,_ she considered. _Ron probably wouldn__'__t be very happy to see us together right now. And there__'__s still four weekends to spend with Severus before school. _

"Hermione?" asked Severus, interrupting her thoughts.

"Yes?" Hermione asked curiously.

"May I kiss you again?" he asked tentatively.

"You don't have to ask, Severus," Hermione said with a soft smile. "You can kiss me whenever you like."

Severus nodded, his tongue darting out to moisten his curving lips. Then his hand came to her jaw, his fingers lightly pressing against her skin, and he lowered his mouth to hers. His lips were soft and slightly timid at first, but soon became more sure, his tongue eventually brushing against her bottom lip.

_Oh sweet Merlin…_

As his kiss deepened, Hermione's focus narrowed to the points where their bodies touched, each one sending electric shocks swirling down her nerves: the movement of their lips and tongues, his fingers spread against the curve of her jaw, her own hand pressed into his chest, his arm around her back, the side of her left breast against his arm, the top of her thigh where it pressed against his leg. Soon a spiral of charged desire whorled from her mouth down into her gut.

As their lips finally broke apart, Hermione let out a soft gasp, not yet daring to open her eyes. Never before had she found herself so aroused, so taken by a man's kiss. She felt she could get lost in the feeling of Severus's lips for hours.

When her lashes finally lifted, Severus was peering down at her with hooded eyes, the corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile.

"All right?" he rumbled.

"Oh, yes," Hermione said breathlessly. "It's just… well, that was really nice."

"It was," he purred, and Hermione felt her cheeks flush. Severus's hand still lay against her jaw, and he brushed it downwards and into her hair, curling several chestnut strands around his fingers.

"We should get you back to the castle," he said, though his body language defied his words, his arm still wrapped tightly around her.

"All right," said Hermione. She would have preferred to kiss him some more, but she reminded herself there was plenty of time to do that now that they were seeing each other.

_Severus's lips—my lips to have whenever I want. _

_Patience. No reason to rush this. Enjoy each and every kiss. Every moment. _

Hermione regretfully pulled herself from Severus's embrace before she gave in to the urges of her body, and stood. Without him next to her, she began to shiver, and this time she did allow Severus to remove his robe and place it over her shoulders.

Their picnic packedup, Severus walked her back to Gryffindor Tower, the basket held in one hand and the blanket folded over his forearm. They were both silent, their eyes flicking occasionally to the other with nervous smiles on their faces.

When they reached portrait hole, Severus set the picnic settings on the floor and turned to face Hermione.

"Meet me at eight in the Entrance Hall for breakfast?" she asked.

"Of course," said Severus, and Hermione smiled.

She began lifting his robes from her shoulders, but he stilled her hands and shook his head.

"Keep it," he said. "I wouldn't want you to get cold on your way to your room."

"All right. Goodnight then, Severus," she said, not yet quite ready to move. She fiddled nervously with the seam of his robes and hoped he might kiss her again.

Severus did not disappoint. Framing her face with his slender hands, he leaned in and gave her a soft peck before drawing away.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he said. "Sleep well."

Hermione smiled and nodded, then gathered her things.

The Fat Lady gave her a knowing smile and a wink before swinging open to the password, and Hermione crawled through the hole to the common room. She set the basket and blanket near the door so she'd remember to give them back to the elves in the kitchen tomorrow, and then headed up to her room.

Crookshanks was curled into a ball on the bed, and opened one large yellow eye as she entered.

At the sight of her familiar, Hermione couldn't keep her excitement bottled any longer. She dove onto the bed, landing on her stomach, Severus's robes billowing out behind her and then falling lightly over her splayed form like a blanket. She buried her face into the corner of the soft green fabric, breathing in his scent, and her face split into a smile so wide it threatened to split her face.

"Oh, Crooks, it worked!" she squealed, rolling onto her side and curling her arms around herself in a gleeful hug.

"He _kissed_ me," she added breathily, her fingers coming to her lips, which tingled in remembrance. "There were stars, and, oh, Merlin, it felt amazing," she said with a sigh. _So amazing._

"If only mum were here, Crooks. She'd be so proud of me!"

Crookshanks began purring next to her head.

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><p>Early the next morning, Severus met Hermione for breakfast, and then walked her towards Hogsmeade so she could Apparate to Grimmauld Place. Harry and Ron had moved in shortly before starting Auror training, but Hermione had not yet visited.<p>

It was a beautiful summer's day, and Hermione's and Severus's feet crunched along the gravel path, their hands clasped together between them as they walked. Her hand felt small held in his long, curving fingers, but his flesh was soft and warm against her own, and her heart quickened with his touch.

As they passed through the large gates exiting the Hogwart's grounds, Hermione turned to face him, suddenly reluctant to leave his side. Why was she even leaving, again?

"Enjoy the party," said Severus, squeezing her hand._ That__'__s right, the party._ She couldn't very well blow off Harry on his birthday.

"I wish you would come," said Hermione sadly. Severus smiled affectionately at her, tilting her chin with his fingers and kissing her mouth gently. She felt her lips melt into his, wanted desperately for her body to follow, but he pulled away, leaving her breathless.

"I'll be waiting for you," he said, and the look in his eyes made her heart flutter.

Feeling unable to speak, she stepped back in preparation. Her eyes never left Severus's until she turned and Disapparated with a crack.

She landed on the front step of Grimmauld Place, staring at the familiar green door she had not seen since escaping last fall after Yaxley had discovered their hiding place. A trickle of fear worked its way into her gut as she remembered the terror when the Death Eater grabbed her, but she pushed it away with a solid knock on the door. She heard footsteps from within the house, and then the door opened with a loud creak.

"Hi, Hermione," Ginny greeted her warmly.

"Hi, Ginny," said Hermione, stepping inside.

The front hallway looked much different than she remembered. It had always looked rather decrepit and run-down, but now it looked warm and welcoming.

"It looks good, doesn't it? I helped Harry pick the colours—and we built that soundproof cover over Mrs. Black's portrait, so she doesn't even scream anymore," she said, pointing to an opaque rectangular case sticking out of the wall where the curtains used to be.

"That's a relief," said Hermione, also noticing the shrunken elf heads had been removed from the staircase.

"You're in the same room as always," she said, then dropped her voice slightly. "If my parents ask later, I am too." She winked.

So Ginny would be sleeping in Harry's room, it seemed. _Better not to imagine what they might do together_, Hermione thought with a shudder. She'd miss her late-night chats with her friend, but wouldn't mind having a room to herself. _If Severus __had come__, __what would Ginny think if he shared a room with me? _She didn't have time to think about it further, as Ginny grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the stairs.

"Come on, let's drop your bag and then we can go meet the boys," said Ginny.

After throwing her night bag unceremoniously on the bed, she and Ginny made their way to the basement kitchens, where Ron and Harry were sitting talking about Quidditch.

"It's too bad it's not in Britain this year, I bet we could have gotten free tickets," Ron was saying as Hermione and Ginny walked through the doorway.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," said Hermione. "Hello, Ron."

"Hey, Hermione," said Harry, getting up and going around the table to give her a hug.

"Hi," said Ron somewhat quietly, waving from the table and then averting his eyes.

_Oh dear, this is going to be awkward._

Faced with Ron's aloof welcome, Hermione realized that Severus had done her a favour by not joining her. She hated to think how Ron would feel if he saw her with Severus: probably like she was rubbing his face in his heartbreak.

_Well, better start mending your friendship now. You can__'__t keep Severus a secret forever._

"How's Auror training going, Ron?" she asked, taking a seat next to him.

Ron, thankfully, did not ignore her question, though he wouldn't quite meet her eyes.

"Not bad," he said, picking at the empty tea cup in front of him.

"Get to catch any bad guys yet?"

"Yeah, we went on a raid yesterday, actually. First one." His eyes lightened slightly as this pronouncement, so Hermione pushed on.

"Tell me all about it," she said.

"Well, okay…"

Hermione spent the entire morning listening to Harry and Ron talk about their training. Much to Hermione's relief, it didn't take long for Ron to start joking again, and things felt almost like normal by lunchtime.

In the late afternoon, the rest of the Weasley's, Neville, and Luna joined them for Harry's party. Kreacher put together a scrumptious dinner for all of them, consisting of several types of meat pies, roasted vegetables, and bread rolls. After presents and cake, Molly and Arthur left the rest of them to celebrate.

Hermione had quickly escaped to the sitting room with a book and a cup of tea once the beer and firewhisky started flowing in the kitchens. She was reading about healing salves when Harry snuck into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Escaped, have you?" said Hermione, turning the page.

"There's too much cheer down there, even for me," said Harry, sighing and collapsing on the sofa. "Ron and George will be sick in the morning if they don't stop drinking soon. Of course Ginny keeps egging them on."

"I hope Ron's hangover isn't my doing," said Hermione, thinking Harry would have a better grasp on Ron's feelings than she did at the moment.

"No, he's okay, Ron. A little hurt still, but okay," said Harry, giving Hermione a reassuring look. "He just needs some time."

"I'm glad," said Hermione, feeling relieved.

"New book from the library?" asked Harry.

"No. Severus loaned it to me, actually."

"Snape, huh? Ron told me he caught you two looking pretty close," said Harry.

"He was just healing a cut on my head and checking for a concussion," said Hermione tersely. "Ron completely overreacted, as usual."

"Right, well, if you decide to invite him over, do give me a warning, yeah?"

"Invite who over?" said Ginny, stumbling into the room. "Are more people coming to the party?"

Harry laughed. "No, Ginny, no one else is coming to the party."

"Too bad. George and Ron are doing shots and Luna is keeping score. I thought you might want to come see," said Ginny, her eyes glassy and sparkling as she put a hand on the couch to stop herself from swaying.

"I'll pass, thanks," said Harry, chuckling, "and I think you should too, by the looks of it." He got up, going to Ginny's side.

"Going to take me to bed, Harry?" Ginny said suggestively, then leaned forward and kissed him sloppily. Hermione put her nose into her book.

"Yeah, let's go," said Harry, putting her arm around his shoulder and his own around her waist. "Night, Hermione."

"Goodnight," called Hermione, glancing up from her book only for a moment.

"You're really sexy, you know that Harry?" Ginny slurred as Harry led her from the room. Hermione could hear him laughing as he and Ginny made their way up the stairs.

Hermione snorted into her book, shutting the cover and deciding that she too should go to bed. As much as she missed Severus, she was glad, at least for tonight, that she was alone.

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><p>Hermione was up hours before her friends. She had a shower, ate breakfast with Kreacher, and then settled back down with her book in the kitchen to wait for the others to rise.<p>

Ron stumbled into the kitchen around ten, looking slightly green around the ears.

"You had quite the night," said Hermione, offering him a chair. Ron dropped into it with a dull thud.

"I am never drinking firewhisky again," he groaned, putting his head down on the table and grimacing. "What was I thinking?"

"I expect the problem is you weren't," said Hermione, pouring Ron a glass of water. "Here, drink this. Can I get you some breakfast?"

She interpreted his pained moan as a yes, and set to work frying him some eggs.

"Always taking care of me, even when I'm an idiot," Ron mumbled as she plated the eggs and a piece of toast.

"You're welcome," she said, placing the plate in front of him.

"Ugh, I've changed my mind. I think I'm going to be sick," he said, and then stumbled out of his chair and ran from the room, his feet thudding heavily up the stairs to the bathroom on the first floor. He returned a few minutes later, sat down, and began eating.

"Thizzis gud 'my-ownee," he said with his mouth full of toast, crumbs falling into his lap.

_Boys, _Hermione thought, rolling her eyes. At least Ron was back to normal.

The rest of the weekend at Grimmauld Place passed uneventfully. They spent most of the day in the sitting room, as all except Harry, Hermione, and Luna were too hungover to do much of anything. Hermione left Grimmauld Place late Sunday evening well after dark.

As she headed back to her dormitory, she felt a little sad that she had missed the entire weekend with Severus, but promised herself she would go find him first thing in the morning. It wasn't like she could go find him now: besides the fact it was on the third floor, she had no idea where his room was.

On the way to breakfast the next morning, she located him on the marble staircase near the second floor. He was wearing a black shirt and dark jeans, moving silently down the stairs with long strides.

"Severus!" she called, running down the steps to greet him. Noticing Professor Sprout was speaking with Professor Vector on the first floor landing, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the second floor corridor.

"I missed you," she said, putting her arms around his neck and tangling her fingers in his hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him.

"Good morning," said Severus, leaning down to kiss her. His lips were firm, wanting, and their tongues quickly greeted one another.

It was in this position that Hermione heard the distinct voice of Professor McGonagal yell, "Severus! Miss Granger!"

They broke their kiss and looked sideways in unison to see the headmistress standing just down the hallway, wide-eyed and with her arms crossed over her chest.

Hermione tensed, but Severus merely said, "Good morning, Minerva," his arms still around her waist. "Can we be of some assistance?"

"In here now! Both of you!" McGonagal shrieked, her robe billowing around her as she turned into a classroom, obviously expecting them to follow.

Once in the classroom, Hermione felt not unlike she had in first year, being questioned about why she was found in a bathroom fighting a mountain troll. Except the troll was her handsome older ex-professor, and she hadn't been fighting him unless you counted what their tongues had been doing.

Severus leaned on a desk next to her, face emotionless and passive.

"I expect to catch hormonal fourth years necking in the halls, but you, Miss Granger, and _you_, Severus! Would either of you like to explain what I just saw?"

"I don't see what there is to explain, Minerva," Severus said icily, narrowing his eyes.

"Severus, I've known you to do some less than amicable things in the past, but I never expected you would force yourself on a student," said McGonagal.

"He was not forcing himself on me!" Hermione shouted defensively, adding, "And he's not my professor anymore!"

McGonagal turned to face her.

"Miss Granger, are you honestly telling me that you and Severus were kissing in the hallway just now of your own volition?"

"Yes," Hermione said, her face flushing as she grasped Severus's hand. "We're seeing each other—romantically, I mean."

He squeezed her fingers in his.

McGonagal stared at their joined hands in apparent disbelief, then her face softened somewhat as she looked at Hermione again.

"I know this past year's been very hard on you, and it's a bit lonely at the castle right now, but certainly you'd prefer someone your own age? I always thought you and young Mr. Weasley had an interest in one another."

"With all due respect, Professor, I believe I know my preferences best," said Hermione, feeling suddenly annoyed. _And my preference is Severus Snape_. Who did McGonagal think she was to tell her who to date?

McGonagal frowned, clearly disappointed in her answer.

"You're sure this is what you want, Miss Granger?"

"I'm sure," Hermione answered fiercely.

"As you are both of age, and Severus is no longer a professor here, I suppose I cannot do anything to stop you. But I do want to impress upon you my concern. I simply cannot approve of your relationship. Certainly you both can see why it might be highly problematic?"

"Problematic for whom, exactly?" asked Severus, bile in his voice, as he stood up from the desk. "As you said, I am no longer a professor here, and have every intention of leaving before September first.

"Or perhaps that is not the problem. Is it because I was a Death Eater, a spy? Or perhaps because I'm a gross old man who no woman could ever possibly be interested in?" he spat, his dark eyes burning with anger.

"Now, Severus, that's not what I meant," said McGonagal.

"My relationship with Hermione is no one's business but our own!" said Severus, clearly uninterested in discussing the matter any further.

"Fine. But while you stay at this castle, you will be discreet and keep your kissing out of the corridors. Do I make myself clear?"

"Quite clear," said Severus.

"Yes, Professor," said Hermione.

"Now, I am going down to do our daily assignments. I expect you both to join us in a moment," said McGonagal, sweeping out of the room.

"Well, that was a wonderful way to start the morning," said Severus, turning to face Hermione. The fire had gone out of his eyes, replaced with concern.

"It could have been worse. We could have gotten detention," Hermione teased, smiling to show she was no longer bothered. She knew that some people would have a problem with their relationship, had accepted they may have to deal with such situations before surprising Severus with a picnic on the lawn. She'd hoped McGonagal would be more supportive, but it wasn't going to change her mind about being with Severus. In a castle as large as Hogwarts, it wasn't hard to be discreet.

She took out her wand and silently closed the door and performed a Locking Charm.

"Now, I think we have some catching up to do," she said, closing the gap between herself and Severus and putting her arms around his neck once more.

"Do you really think this is wise?" Severus asked with a raised eyebrow, but did not push her away.

"McGonagal said to be discreet and to keep it out of the hallways, which I believe I have covered by locking the door. Besides, she said we had a moment."

And rising on her tiptoes, she planted Severus with a kiss.


	21. Chapter 21: Burning

**Chapter 21: Burning**

Hermione's annoyance with McGonagal returned when the woman assigned her and Severus to different groups for the remainder of the month—an act she was sure was purposeful following her catching their display of affection in the hallway.

She'd never had a reason to question her Head of House's opinion before, but she could see no good reason for her blatant disapproval of her relationship with Severus. It was true they were 19 years apart in age, but that wasn't completely out of the ordinary, especially in wizarding society. She supposed it was just another reminder that everyone had prejudices; some were just more obvious and obscene than others.

Hermione tried to remain calm by telling herself that she and Severus would still have evenings and weekends to see each other, but she couldn't help but feel disappointed that they wouldn't get to continue to work together every day. Severus too seemed angered by their forced separation, the vein in his forehead throbbing and his jaw going tight when McGonagal announced he would be in Professor Sprout's group.

Hermione waited until everyone had left before giving Severus a kiss on the cheek and agreeing to meet him before dinner, then scampered out of the room to join Flitwick's group once more.

Hermione, Flitwick, and Professor Slughorn were repairing the seventh floor, which had damage scattered throughout the halls.Repairing the castle was not as enjoyable without Severus's company. She'd become accustomed to their playful banter and stimulating academic conversations over the last month; it was difficult to go back to being quiet, though Flitwick and Slughorn did try to make occasional conversation with her about her final year.

Hermione, of course, tried not to complain, and in the evenings she and Severus would meet at dinner, then escape the castle and go on a walk around the lake before Severus would escort her back to Gryffindor Tower, give her a kiss, and send her through the portrait hole.

It wasn't until the end of the first week when Hermione noticed Professor Flitwick humming to himself as he repaired the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy that Hermione remembered the Room of Requirement once more, and the name she had spied on Professor McGonagal's parchment months previously.

"Professor Flitwick, sir," she said, "has the Room of Requirement been repaired yet?"

"The Room of Requirement?" asked Flitwick. "I think I remember Minerva mentioning it, but since none of us know exactly where it is, it has not been seen to yet."

"I can show you where it is, if you like. It's right here, actually," said Hermione, smiling nervously.

"I don't see a door," said Slughorn, looking around.

"Well, it's not a normal room, you see," explained Hermione. "You have to tell it what you want. Here, let me show you."

She stood facing the wall, and chanted '_I need a place to hide something_,' in her mind.

"Simply fabulous!" squeaked Flitwick excitedly when a rough wooden door appeared in the wall.

"The last time I was in this particular room, it was filled with Fiendfyre, so we may want to be careful," said Hermione.

"Right, wands out then," said Slughorn. "There may be ashwinders—I do hope so, I'm running low on eggs."

Wand in her hand, Hermione opened the door and entered, not sure what to expect but hoping the fire had long since burned itself out.

Burned out was perhaps an understatement. The Room of Hidden Things was unrecognizable. Charred and blackened from floor to ceiling, what was once shelves and piles of objects had been reduced to lumpy piles of grey and black ash. The room smelled thickly of smoke, and the wooden ceiling was black and shiny, many of its beams broken and burned away.

"Ah, yes, ashwinder eggs!" said Slughorn greedily, stepping around Hermione and going to a small pile of glowing orange eggs nestled into the ash pile closest to them. He pulled a small vial from his robes, and with a flick of his wand had expanded it into a jar large enough to hold the clutch. He then cast a Freezing Charm, turning the eggs an icy blue. Flitwick moved over to help him, and they were carefully lifting them into Slughorn's jar when Hermione heard a great hissing noise, like loud static coming from a broken television.

"Um, Professors," she said nervously. "I think the parents may be coming."

Except it wasn't one or two snakes that appeared slithering over the ash piles from the back of the room, but what looked like hundreds, their pale grey bodies moving silently over the hills of debris towards the three wizards.

"Professors!" Hermione shouted, and the two wizards stood to look at her, then followed her increasingly wide-eyed gaze towards the mass of moving serpents.

"Oh dear, this may be more than we can handle," said Slughorn, closing his jar and placing it back in his robes. "Let's go, shall we?"

But Hermione found herself frozen, her focus suddenly stolen by a human-like lump in the centre of the room that was now surrounded by slithering bodies with glowing red eyes. The body was badly charred, an arm-like appendage stretched out as if to grab something, though it lacked fingers, its rounded head broken only by a gaping hole that Hermione was sure had been screaming as it burned.

A serpent wound its way over the blackened arm, and it crumbled away beneath its winding body. Hermione whimpered, sudden visions of a giant fiery snake rearing up, its great flaming fangs barely missing her as she rushed out of the room, of Crabbe's body being engulfed in flames.

_Crabbe's body. Bodies… so many bodies…_

"No!" she screamed, bringing her hands over her eyes, but the images wouldn't stop: Fred's body, limp and lifeless; Lupin and Tonks laid out in the Great Hall next to so many others; another giant snake with dripping fangs, and Severus's body, slumped against the Shrieking Shack wall. "Stop! Stop!" she screamed, shaking her head to try to push the memories away.

She wasn't aware of the ashwinders, only meters away from her now, until she felt a hand close over her bicep and pull her away sharply. Her eyes flew open as she was dragged back through the door into the hallway, and she caught a glimpse of the approaching knotted mass of hissing snakes as the door was slammed shut behind her.

She collapsed onto the cold stone floor, panting heavily. Slughorn crouched in front of her, Flitwick standing to his side, both their faces etched with concern.

"Miss Granger, are you all right?" asked Flitwick.

"Y—yes, yes I'm fine. I don't know what happened," said Hermione between shaky breaths, images of snakes and bodies still skirting her peripheral vision.

"Perhaps you should go see Madame Pomfrey," said Slughorn. "In any case, I think you can have the rest of the afternoon off. We won't be tackling that mess today."

"Thanks, Professor," said Hermione numbly. Slughorn stuck out a hand to help her up from the floor, but she ignored it, pushing herself to her feet on her own. "I'm fine, really. See you tomorrow."

The visions were building again, clouding her eyes. With them a great pressure grew within her chest, as if her lungs were filling with water instead of air. It felt like she was suffocating, and so she took off running down the stairs.

_Oh Gods. I need air. _

She jumped two stairs at a time, going as fast as her feet would carry her as the feeling in her chest threatened to overwhelm her. Her ears were ringing in her skull, and she thought she might have heard someone call her name as she ran past a dark shape on the fifth floor corridor, but she did not stop, could not stop.

_Air. Air. Outside. Away. Get away!_

She was relieved when her feet finally touched the Entrance Hall floor, and she flung herself forward across the threshold, through the great doors, and down the front steps. She crumpled onto the driveway on her hands and knees, feeling the gravel pinch the palms of her hands, and took great gasping breaths of fresh air into her lungs, which began to loosen the tightness in her chest.

"Hermione?" said a deep voice behind her, and she turned her head beneath her arm to look for the source: long legs covered in dark jeans. She craned her head further: long raven hair, hooked nose, ebony eyes glistening with concern.

"Severus!" she choked, dropping her head. Severus approached her slowly, crouching by her side, and placed a soft hand on her back.

"Are you all right? What happened?" he asked softly.

"I just needed some air," Hermione gasped.

"People don't run like that because they need air," said Severus, stroking her back.

"We were in the Room of Requirement. There was ashwinders, and… Crabbe…" she said, her voice suddenly dying in her throat before she could say anything further. Apparently it was enough of an explanation for Severus, however, because he proceeded to gather her in his arms, pulling her against his chest.

"Breathe, Hermione. You're all right," he said, stroking her hair, and Hermione shut her eyes, allowing herself to be comforted.

He held her for several minutes. Slowly Hermione's anxiety faded away along with the terrible visions, replaced by the warmth of Severus's body. It was several minutes more before she realized that they were still sitting on the driveway, and her ankles were being stabbed by the sharp gravel.

"We should move," she mumbled into Severus's chest. "You cannot be comfortable."

"You're sure you're all right?" asked Severus, apparently unconcerned by where they sat, pushing her hair behind her ear so he could peer into her eyes.

"Yes, thank you," said Hermione, feeling suddenly embarrassed. She stood from Severus's lap, then reached out her hand to help him to his feet. Severus brushed himself off while Hermione flicked away a piece of gravel that was embedded into her calf, leaving a painful dent in her skin.

"Do you want to go back inside?" asked Severus.

"Not really, no," said Hermione honestly. "You can go if you need to get back though. I'll be all right."

"They can do without me," he said. "Come, we can have our walk early today." Severus took her hand and led her down the driveway away from the castle. They made their way down the hill toward the lake, and as they passed the now-repaired Quidditch pitch, Hermione began to feel guilty for leaving Professors Flitwick and Slughorn back on the seventh floor to finish the repairs for the day.

"Gods, what must Professors Flitwick and Slughorn think of me? I completely froze and freaked out back there," she said, voicing her concerns.

"Well, obviously that you've gone mad," said Severus smoothly. "I expect a healer from St. Mungo's will be here to collect you by the time we get back."

"Severus!" shouted Hermione, pushing him away so he stumbled, but unable to stop herself from laughing. Regaining his footing, Severus came beside her and took her hand once more.

"I expect they think you're human and like everyone else who survived the war," said Severus seriously. "Everyone has scars; some are just more visible than others."

"Have you ever had panic attacks or nightmares?" Hermione asked cautiously. Somehow, she didn't think so. His memories certainly never hinted that he had, though he had more reason than her to do so.

"I have had moments of strong emotion, but not what I would call panic attacks, no. And never any nightmares. But the way I grew up, dealing with violence and pain were part of survival," said Severus with a grimace. "And I wouldn't have made a very good spy if I didn't know how to control my thoughts and emotions."

"I do wish you'd had a better childhood," said Hermione sadly. "But I suppose it did set you up well for being a spy—not that that was any better." Hermione paused, not sure she wanted to get into this heavy conversation at the moment.

"You control your thoughts with Occlumency, right? Can you teach me how to do that?" she asked, thinking she'd very much like to be able to control her thoughts and emotions so she didn't have a repeat performance of this afternoon when she went back to work on Monday.

"No," said Severus firmly.

"What?" Hermione spluttered. "Why not?"

Severus sighed and stopped, turning Hermione to face him. "Because, Hermione, we're not at war anymore, and you're not a spy," he said seriously. "Occluding all the time, you start to feel empty; you end up covering up more good than bad. When you don't allow yourself to feel pain or emotion, you don't allow yourself to heal either. Trust me on this."

Hermione nodded, taking in what he said, and then wrapped her arms around his waist.

"When did you learn Occlumency?" she asked curiously.

"My mother taught it to me when I was 16 or 17," said Severus. "I think it's the only reason she was able to stay with my father."

Suddenly, Severus's unwillingness to teach her Occlumency made that much more sense. It wasn't as if she thought he was going to hurt her—she trusted him—but based his confessions a week before, she wasn't convinced that _he_ believed he wouldn't hurt her.

"Truth be told, I do rather admire your emotional abilities and openness. It's a skill I do not possess," said Severus. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

Hermione felt her cheeks flush, and hugged Severus a little harder. Getting compliments from the man still sometimes surprised her, even as his angry professor persona increasingly became less a part of who she believed he was.

"I think your emotional abilities are just fine," she said, making Severus grunt.

"There are other ways I can help you manage your emotions from getting overwhelming—less dangerous ways," said Severus solemnly. "I'm sorry I could not prevent the traumas you endured, but I believe I may be able to help you overcome them."

"It's not your fault, Severus. It was my choice to go with Harry, to fight. It was my choice to remove my parents' memories too," she said. "But I'll accept your help."

"On Monday I'll come to the Room of Requirement with you," he said.

"What about Professor Sprout's group? Won't Professor McGonagal be upset that you've left?"

"Minerva and Pomona will have to deal with it. If they want my continued assistance, they will allow me to join your group for the day at least," he said, and the look in his eyes told Hermione he was serious.

"I'd like that. I've missed working with you this week," said Hermione.

"I have missed you as well," said Severus, leaning down to give her a soft peck on the lips.

"What am I going to do after you leave on September first?"

"Greet your friends and attend the Welcome Feast, I expect," drawled Severus.

"You know what I mean," said Hermione, poking him in the ribs.

"I don't want this to end because of your schooling, Hermione. I'm also not going to stop you from finishing your NEWTs. You tell me what you want to do and I'll agree," Severus said seriously, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"I'm not going to leave you just because of school, Severus," said Hermione, reaching up and brushing his cheek with her fingers. "We'll just have to write and see each other when we can. But I'm committed to us, Severus."

Severus smiled. "Sometimes I feel like I'm dreaming, you're so lovely."

Hermione felt as if her heart turned to wax and melted into her gut, where it lit a glowing fire that burned out to her limbs.

"This isn't a dream," she whispered hoarsely.

"Even if it was, it would be fine as long as I never had to wake up," said Severus with hooded eyes.

This time when Severus leaned down to kiss her, he let his lips linger, and the fire in Hermione's belly began to burn more brightly, threatening to turn her body entire body into fuel.

"So lovely," Severus whispered against her mouth, then he captured her bottom lip in his own, suckling it and darting his tongue into her mouth.

Hermione let out a soft whimper as he pulled away, and her eyes fluttered open.

"Let's continue our walk," said Severus gruffly. Hermione smiled and nodded, taking his hand as they continued along the lakeside.

If the look in his eyes was anything to go by, she wasn't the only one inflamed by their kiss.


	22. Chapter 22: Pumpkin, Darling

**Chapter 22: Pumpkin, Darling**

Saturday evening at just before six o'clock found Severus Snape pacing in the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts. Dressed in a black Muggle suit and a crisp white button-up shirt left open at the collar, he waited for Hermione to meet him for dinner.

After having a witch confess her feelings for him and subsequently sharing several passionate kisses, most wizards would likely feel rather confident on such an evening. Severus, however, felt uncustomarily nervous. He desperately wanted the evening to go well, believing this was his chance to show Hermione he could be attentive and romantic. Though he knew something mundane would more than satisfy Hermione, it was still their first date and he wanted it to be special. He wanted to woo her.

Which is why on this night, he was the one with a plan. While Hermione was busy at Grimmauld Place, he'd gone shopping for a new wardrobe and had scouted several potential locations for their evening, finally making a reservation at an expensive Muggle restaurant in Edinburgh.

When Hermione came down the stairs at exactly six o'clock, and Severus immediately stopped pacing.

She wore a soft pink cocktail dress with a scoop neck and delicately sequinned bodice, its narrow waist accentuating her curves. Her long calves were visible below the knee-length chiffon skirt, her feet embellished with simple nude pumps.

If Severus had been a lesser man, he would have skipped the restaurant, taken Hermione to his rooms, and spent the evening worshipping her body. Instead he strode forward with long strides and took the coat from her arm, helping her into it.

"You look stunning," he whispered into her ear from behind, pleased at the blush that appeared on her cheeks.

"I didn't know you owned Muggle clothes," she said softly.

"I didn't until recently," he replied.

"They suit you," she said, her eyes glittering in the evening light.

Severus offered her his arm, which she accepted gracefully, looping her hand through his elbow, and they walked together down to the front gates, where Severus could Apparate them both to an alley near the restaurant.

He'd chosen a chic place on the Royal Mile in Edinburgh. The waiter escorted them up to the second floor, which was more intimate than the main dining room on the first. Tucked away in a corner by tall French windows, they had a view of the cobbled streets and old terraced buildings that graced the city's most prominent road, which rose up a hill towards the great castle at the top.

"Severus, this place is incredible," said Hermione, her eyes dancing about the room, which was dressed in black and gold. "How did you find it?"

"Lucius brought me here years ago," he admitted.

"Is this where Slytherins usually come to romance their partners?" asked Hermione coyly.

"Only one Slytherin I know of," Severus answered with a smirk.

"I can only hope you are referring to you and not Lucius," Hermione said, and Severus chuckled.

"I was indeed referring to me," he confirmed, reaching across the table to cover her hand in his own. He couldn't stop his heart from fluttering happily at the smile that drew across Hermione's face in response.

The rest of the evening could not have gone better in Severus's opinion. The food was fabulous, Hermione describing her lamb dish as "divine," and they were both pleasantly tipsy by the time Severus paid the bill and walked Hermione down the high street and into an alley.

"Hold on tight," he whispered in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her. Feeling her grip on his torso, he Apparated them a short distance away to the top of Arthur's Seat, a hill that overlooked the city and the castle on the hill opposite.

"Oh, Severus, the view is incredible!" Hermione said as she turned around. The city sprawled out before them, glowing orange and yellow in the night.

"Myth says this is where Camelot stood," said Severus.

"You mean with King Arthur and Merlin?" asked Hermione.

"The very same," said Severus with a nod.

Hermione closed her eyes, looking as if she was trying to feel a trace of Merlin's magic through the rocks beneath their feet. Severus took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her from behind, resting his hands lightly on her belly. Hermione leaned back against his chest with a sigh, covering his arms with her own.

"Now I think _I__'__m_ dreaming," said Hermione with a smile, her eyelashes drifting open lazily.

"Then it must be my turn to confirm reality," said Severus smoothly.

"How is it that no one knows how wonderful you are?" asked Hermione, and Severus knew it was a rhetorical question, but couldn't help but answering.

"It was a matter of survival, once," he replied. "Now I simply prefer my privacy."

"Who did you hope would see your memories?" Hermione asked contemplatively.

"I don't know," Severus answered honestly. "Though I am very grateful it was you."

"I bet Professor McGonagal is kicking herself now," said Hermione with a chuckle. "She'll never trust me with a special project again."

"I think I'd prefer to be your only special project," purred Severus possessively.

"Of the wizard variety, that I can guarantee," said Hermione.

"I believe it is time to get you back to the castle," said Severus, suddenly aware of the time.

"I'm not a pumpkin, Severus," said Hermione. "I can stay out past midnight."

"A pumpkin?" asked Severus, confused.

"Didn't you ever see Cinderella when you were young?"

"A Muggle movie, I assume?"

"Yes, a very popular one based on a fairy tale," said Hermione. "It's about a girl whose parents die and she lives with her evil step-mother and step-sisters, but a prince falls in love with her, except he doesn't realize who she is. All he has is a glass slipper she left as a clue. Most Muggle children know about it."

"I'm still not sure what that has to do with pumpkins. I'm afraid that I've never seen a Muggle movie, nor was I told any fairy tales," admitted Severus. "We were too poor to go to the cinema when I was young—not that I think my father would have let me go even if we had the money—and I gave up all things Muggle after…" He didn't finish his sentence, not wanting to remind Hermione of his being a Death Eater on a thus far perfect evening.

"Can I take you to the movies next weekend then?" asked Hermione. "Cinderella is almost 50 years old so we'll have to choose something else, but they really are fun. I was always surprised that wizards haven't adopted them—or television for that matter. Radios have been adjusted to work, so I'm sure one could make televisions work too. The biggest obstacle would be creating enough programming, but I'm sure once people saw the telly they'd start creating shows."

"Planning to be the future inventor of wizarding television?" asked Severus with a chuckle. He loved how her mind always spiralled into knowledge and creation at any opportunity.

"No, though I might mention it to George," said Hermione thoughtfully. "It seems like something he might like."

"Regardless of the future of wizarding television, I'd love to go to a movie with you next weekend," said Severus, pleased for the opportunity for a second date.

"Excellent! I'll try to get some listings so we can decide what to go see," said Hermione.

"Now, I really must insist we return to Hogwarts, _pumpkin_," he teased. If he didn't end the night soon, he was going to invite her to his rooms, and if she entered his rooms, he wasn't sure he could bear to have her leave again.

"All right," said Hermione, turning around in his arms and gripping him tightly. "Take me home, _darling_."

* * *

><p>It was with a determined step that Severus found Pomona on Monday morning and told her he would be joining Flitwick's group on the seventh floor. The plump witch blustered slightly, but soon acquiesced under the power of Severus's glare. He didn't bother informing Minerva; if the witch found out, he'd deal with her then.<p>

Hermione looked relieved and overjoyed when he appeared on the seventh floor. They'd practiced the techniques they would use in the Room of Requirement the day before, but she admitted at breakfast that she was still nervous about having another panic attack in front of her professors.

"I was told you require assistance with the Room of Requirement," Severus told Flitwick.

"Ah, Minerva sent you to help, did she? Excellent!" squeaked the tiny wizard. Severus neither confirmed nor denied that Minerva had sent him, but walked over to Hermione, who was standing next to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

"Open the room," he said to her. After a few moments, a door appeared in the wall, and he placed his hand on the small of Hermione's back. "You go first. Remember to breathe and focus on the snakes," he said quietly so the other wizards would not hear.

Hermione stepped forward with resolve, her hand gripped tightly on her wand, and opened the door. A hissing noise filled Severus's ears as he stepped into the room, hundreds of red eyes on slithering grey bodies turning to face the four humans that now stood in front of them; it was like staring at hundreds of tiny faces of the Dark Lord, and Severus felt a cyclone of rage spiral through him.

"Blast them all," he spat, raising his wand.

"Expulso!" Hermione yelled, sending a blue wave crashing into the pile of serpents closest to them, exploding them into dust.

Severus began firing spells at them with his own wand, taking wicked delight in each face that evaporated before him. He kept a close watch on Hermione, staying close to her side in case she needed him, but his witch was strong and fast, and not a single ashwinder managed to get within a hundred feet of them as the four wizards pelted them with curses.

When the last snake was dead, Hermione and Severus had not moved, though they huffed heavily at the effort of hurling endless spells.

"Oh Good job!" quipped Flitwick.

"I think I will search for eggs," said Slughorn, stepping further into the room. Soon he and Flitwick had disappeared behind a particularly tall ash pile.

"You did excellent," Severus said quietly to Hermione, whose eyes were staring straight ahead, her breath still coming fast and hard. Severus followed her gaze to the blackened form in the centre of the room, undoubtedly that of his old Slytherin student.

"Breathe, Hermione," he said, taking her hand.

Hermione nodded dumbly, but she allowed him to walk her forward. After several steps her hand began to shake in his, and he gave it a squeeze.

"Concentrate on the feeling of my hand, Hermione," said Severus. "If you need to, you can close your eyes. I won't let anything happen to you."

Hermione bit her bottom lip and allowed her eyes to slip closed. She continued to shake, and her fingers curled more tightly around his.

"Deep breaths. Feel my hand," he said, guiding her still forward.

When they were in reach of the boy's corpse, which appeared to be entirely made of glistening black carbon, Severus conjured an urn. It rested on the floor, the crest of Slytherin stamped into its side in green and silver.

"We're going to lay Crabbe's body to rest," he said. "I've conjured an urn. Can you open your eyes?"

Hermione swallowed and her eyelids flicked open, and she immediately looked up at Severus.

"You're doing wonderfully," he said, reaching forward with his wand hand and brushing her cheek with his thumb. "Just keep breathing, pumpkin."

He meant to use the term as a playful shock to bring her back from her spiralling fear. He did not expect the hint of a smile that flickered over Hermione's lips at the pet name, and he squeezed her hand once more.

"I'm going to put Crabbe's body into the urn. It's going to take some time. You can help or not. If you start to feel overwhelmed, close your eyes and focus on your breathing and my hand again."

Severus began slowly siphoning the boy's charred body into the urn, the human form disappearing in a stream of black and grey dust.

Severus smiled when Hermione dropped his hand and began helping him. He glanced sideways; her eyes were fixed determinedly on her task, her jaw clenched tight, her nostrils flaring with each inhale of breath.

Before long, Crabbe's body had disappeared, only a faint smudge on the floor to remind them of where it had once lay. Severus capped the urn, shrank it, and placed it in his pocket before taking Hermione's hand again.

"Let's go," he said, pulling her back towards the door.

Back in the hallway, Hermione released a great gush of air and wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank you," she mumbled into his chest.

"Anything for you, pumpkin," said Severus, teasing her once more.

Hermione looked up at him with an amused scowl. "I take I am forevermore stuck with you calling me pumpkin?"

"Need I remind you that you chose the name?" asked Severus with a smirk.

"I did not," Hermione huffed.

"Would you like me to stop?" Severus asked seriously.

Hermione rested her cheek against his chest, closing her eyes. "No. It's just funny, I guess. My dad always used to call me pumpkin pie," she said wistfully. "It's sort of nice, actually. I know it probably sounds really weird, but it's like he's not totally gone when you say it."

"I understand, pumpkin" said Severus. He knew she had been unable to restore her parents' memories, and held her closer, let his fingers trail through her curls. If calling her pumpkin gave her some comfort in addition to making her smile, he'd keep using it—though only in private; he wasn't about to let anyone else but Hermione hear him use a pet name, especially not something as sickeningly sweet as 'pumpkin.' He was a changed man, but he wasn't about to let the world know about it.

"Over 100 eggs!" chortled Slughorn, his fat belly preceding him through the door. "Oh, I'm interrupting a moment, I see!"

Severus scowled at the old professor, instantly tensing against Hermione.

_So much for being discreet. _

"You and Severus, Miss Granger?" Slughorn asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione replied with a tentative smile, stepping back from Severus and picking at the hem of her shorts with her fingers.

"Well, well… Brilliant minds will be attracted to one another," said Slughorn knowingly. "Wonderful… Wonderful… You two better invite me to the wedding!"

Severus nearly choked and Hermione squeaked as her cheeks flushed a violent shade of crimson.

"Oh, no need to be embarrassed!" said Slughorn with a laugh that made his stomach twitch up and down. "I know how these things work!"

"I found more eggs, Horace!" came Flitwick's squeaky voice, the door opening once more.

"Just a moment, Filius. I've made a delightful discovery in the hallway!"

The tiny wizard looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to explain.

"Severus and our dear Miss Granger are an item!" he said, clapping his hands together over his jiggling belly.

"We'd appreciate it if you kept it to yourselves," said Hermione.

"I will take a wand oath if you don't believe you can keep you mouths shut," snapped Severus.

"Oh, no need for that!" said Slughorn, looking startled.

"Our lips are sealed," said Flitwick, his small eyes sparkling.

"Thank you," said Hermione with a smile. Severus narrowed his eyes at the wizards to ensure they realized the importance of their silence.

"Now, what about those eggs, Filius?" said Slughorn, interrupting what was growing into an awkward silence.

With the two wizards back inside the Room of Requirement, Hermione turned to Severus with a sigh.

"How long until the whole world knows?" she asked, and Severus chuckled, drawing her back into an affectionate hug.

"Not long amongst the staff, but others perhaps longer," he said. "The staff room is worse than the girls' dormitories for gossip."

"And how would you know what a girls' dormitory is like?" Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I was the Head of Slytherin House for 16 years," said Severus. "I entered only under greatest need, I assure you."

"'Greatest need,' is that what they called it in your day?" asked Hermione.

Severus scowled deeply, not liking what Hermione was insinuating, and she burst into laughter.

"I was joking, Severus. I know you'd never take advantage of a student," she said, and Severus relaxed. "Though, if you ever want to find out what a girls' dormitory is really like, you are welcome to come to mine."

"Don't tempt me," Severus purred. "Room of Requirement. Repairs. Now," he said, taking a hold of Hermione's shoulders and spinning her towards the door.

Hermione's laughed again, and turned to him with a smirk when her fingers rested on the door handle.

"Coming, darling?"


	23. Chapter 23: Making Dreams

A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews on the last few chapters! I can't tell you how much it means to me to know that people are enjoying this fic.

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><p><strong>Chapter 23: Making Dreams<strong>

Despite her best efforts to make the month last, August slipped by like the pages of a good book, and Hermione soon found herself facing the prospect of Severus leaving the castle. She knew they would keep in contact, would see each other again, but she still found herself feeling very sad.

"I can't believe you leave tomorrow," said Hermione, her head in Severus's lap as they lounged by the lake in a secluded spot beneath the cliffs. Severus stroked her hair, his long fingers rhythmically tracing from her temple to the back of her head.

"I'm sure you'll be so wrapped up in your classes, you'll barely notice I'm gone," said Severus.

"Don't be silly," said Hermione. "Of course I'll miss you."

"We'll see each other in November in Hogsmeade," Severus reminded her.

"And you'll write?" said Hermione, feeling a little childish for needing to confirm that fact for what was probably the tenth time in the past 24 hours.

"And I'll write," said Severus with a chuckle.

"Any leads on work yet?" asked Hermione, changing subjects. She knew Severus had been sending out letters to prospective buyers for his potions, which would hopefully support him once he moved back to Spinner's End.

"St. Mungo's is interested in Wolfsbane and several others," he said. "They owled back this morning."

"That's wonderful," said Hermione, rolling onto her back so she could see Severus's face. Over the past two days he'd allowed a thick stubble to grow over his jaw, and Hermione reached up to rub it with her hand.

"You really do need to shave," she said, feeling the coarse hairs prickling her palm.

"I don't know," said Severus, looking down at her playfully and scratching his chin, "I think I might grow a nice thick beard. What do you think?"

Hermione made a face, to which Severus chuckled and waved his wand, his face becoming clean-shaven. "Better?" he asked.

"Much," she said, touching his now smooth skin with her fingers. Severus seemed to enjoy her caresses and closed his eyes, a soft grunt escaping from the back of his throat.

"What will I do without your constant attention?" he said, peering down at her under half-closed lids.

"I'm sure you'll survive somehow," said Hermione, a spike of arousal going through her as Severus looked at her with his deep, hooded eyes.

"Barely," whispered Severus, wrapping his arms behind her and lifting her upwards. He kissed her deeply and she kissed him back, darting her tongue into his mouth.

Not content, Hermione put her arms around his shoulders and lifted herself into his lap, breaking their kiss for only a moment. She immediately resumed her attack on his lips, feeling a bright bubble of arousal in her groin.

They hadn't done much beyond passionate kissing and the occasional tentative touch since the picnic by the lake, and while they both agreed it would be best to take things slow, she suddenly realized she was painfully close to running out of time before he would be too far away for her to take things even an inch further. And at this moment she thought several inches seemed like a good idea.

Feeling suddenly more insistent, she carded her fingers into his silky hair and pulled him more firmly against her. Their tongues danced, flicking back and forth between their mouths.

Severus's strong hands were running down her back and she lifted her body so they would skim lower. He got the point and tentatively grasped her buttocks in both hands, sending jolts of pleasure up her spine.

Her hands broke away from his shoulders, flying downwards to pull his shirt from his pants, suddenly desperate to feel his skin. Her fingers quickly found the flesh of his torso, deliciously smooth beneath her fingers.

"Hermione," said Severus gruffly, "we shouldn't do this here."

"Why not?" said Hermione, suddenly aware of the bulge in his pants. She scooted her hips forward and pressed herself against him, simultaneously nibbling on his lower lip. "No one can see us," she whispered. Severus hissed, his hands squeezing her flesh as she rubbed herself against him.

"No, Hermione," he said huskily, pushing her back from him, though his eyes said he did not really want to do so. "Meet me later tonight, around nine, in the third floor corridor." He carefully picked her up and lowered her next to him.

"Okay, okay," said Hermione, feeling slightly frustrated but thankful they would get a second chance later this evening. "You know, Severus, most men would have at least taken my shirt off before making me stop," she said with a grin, laying herself out next to him.

"I am not most men," he said smoothly.

"I'm not complaining," said Hermione, smiling to herself and reaching out to take his hand, curling his fingers with her own. "Well, maybe a little, depending on what happens at nine," she added with a sly grin.

* * *

><p>Hermione headed to the third floor at 8:50. She hadn't seen Severus since that afternoon, having eaten dinner alone and then gone to the library so Severus could finish packing. He would leave her early tomorrow morning, September first, before the rest of the students arrived from London. She'd freshened up quickly in her dormitory, putting on a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt, and then headed down the marble staircase back to the third floor, wondering what Severus had in store for her.<p>

The castle was quiet as she walked, the moonlight making long streaks on the floor through the windows, the only noise the tapping of her shoes against the marble steps. As she turned the corner onto the third floor corridor, she looked expectantly for Severus, but could not see him. Wondering if he was waiting at the other staircase, she kept walking, her curiosity increasing with each step.

As she passed by a dark classroom, she felt a sudden tug on her arm and was pulled inside. She squeaked in shock before noticing it was Severus, his dark eyes glittering in the moonlight, making her feel weak.

Before she could ask what was going on, he'd locked the door behind them, grabbed her hips and pushed her against the wall. Hermione's brain was swimming as he kissed her hard, his tongue exploring her mouth as her brain attempted to figure out what was happening. She gave up thinking when Severus's soft lips moved next to her ear, so close she could feel his breath tickling her flesh.

"You have no idea how badly I wanted to do this earlier," he said in a silken whisper, sending a shiver down her spine. Her mind went blessedly blank except for the pleasurable sensations running through her body as he bit her earlobe, kissed down her neck, his hands squeezing at her bottom. She pulled him closer, desperate to feel him against her, and closed her eyes as his mouth made its way down her jugular, his hands running up her sides and brushing over her breasts.

Severus pulled aside the collar of her shirt, biting at her collarbone, sucking at her skin. She put her hands in his hair, sure he was leaving a mark but not caring. His lips felt like electric shocks as he kissed down her chest, making her gasp.

His deft fingers quickly unbuttoned her shirt, and she relished the startled look in his eyes and then the smile as he realized she was not wearing a bra. His hands found her small breasts, squeezing them gently as his lips continued their cascade down her cleavage before locking over one of her nipples.

"Oh, Severus," Hermione moaned, arching her back against him.

Then he was kissing her mouth hungrily again, his tongue attacking her as he pressed his hardness against her through their clothes. Her body lifted towards him instinctively and she grabbed his buttocks with her hands, pulling him closer. He rubbed himself against her, bolts of pleasure shooting through her every time he nudged her swollen mound.

Hermione was sure she was going to explode.

And then, just as quickly as their passion had started, Severus stopped, pulling his hips away. His mouth went to her earlobe, sucking it gently and licking up the curve of cartilage.

"Something for your dreams, until we next meet," he whispered silkily, and then he kissed her lips gently before disappearing into the hall, leaving her alone and panting against the cold stone, feeling only cold air where Severus's warm body had once been.

She gathered herself tentatively, feeling her knees wobble as she caught her breath. Her mind still swam, not entirely sure what had just happened. She couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that he'd left so suddenly.

She buttoned up her shirt and went back into the hall, but Severus was gone. She let out a ragged breath, considering opening every door until she found his rooms, and then giving _him_ something for his dreams, but thought better of it.

No, it was best he'd left when he did. She would not have stopped him if he'd gone further. She wasn't sure she could stop herself if she ended up in his room. Her body seemed to react to him instinctively, her mind going gloriously fuzzy when he touched her.

No, it was better to take it slow, even if it left her horny and frustrated. Sighing, Hermione made her way back to her dormitory.

* * *

><p>Hermione met Severus in the Entrance Hall so they could eat a final breakfast together before he left Hogwarts for the foreseeable future. As soon as she saw him, dressed in his typical black robes for his journey, images of the previous night flitted through her mind and a warm pool of desire spread in her gut.<p>

She was no longer hungry for food.

She glanced at her watch._ You have one hour, Hermione. Make the most of it. _

She strode forward, taking Severus by the hand, and pulled him away from the Great Hall.

"Good morning to you too. Where exactly are you leading me?" Severus asked curiously. Hermione kept her mouth shut, not wanting him to deny her and pull away, and led him to Firenze's divination classroom.

It was blessedly empty, still enchanted to look like a forest.

_Perfect._

"Why are we here?" asked Severus, looking around at the trees.

Hermione locked the door, casting several wards and a Silencing Spell to ensure they would not be bothered. When she turned to face Severus, he had a confused scowl on his face, as if he was trying to decide if she was going to kiss him or curse him.

"We're going to finish what you started last night," she said boldly, walking towards him and sashaying her hips to the best of her limited ability.

Severus looked startled, and she watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"We agreed we'd take things slow," he said smoothly, even as she pressed her body against his, her hands reaching to take a hold of his small, taut buttocks.

"We're not going to have sex, Severus," Hermione said slowly. "But we are going to go a little farther, or I'm going to go mad before November."

She expected Severus to argue, but instead he conjured a plush green blanket that spread itself over the ground.

Severus sat, his eyes glittering nervously yet full of desire, and she perched herself on his lap just as she'd done the day before by the lake.

"Kiss me, Severus," she said, placing her hands on his shoulders. He obliged, pressing his lips to hers, his hands coming to her sides. Their tongues quickly entwined, and the bubble of desire in Hermione's gut quickly gushed outwards until her body swirled with need.

As they continued to kiss, Hermione ran her hands down Severus's firm chest, desperate to feel him. She fumbled with the buttons at the neck of his robes, and his hands quickly came up to aid her. A few moments of spry fingers, twisting arms, and flying black cloth later, they were both in their underwear.

Hermione swallowed as she noticed the bulge in Severus's black boxer-briefs, and she pressed her hips forward against it, making him suck in a breath.

Severus's fingers carded into her hard, pulling her to his mouth as they rubbed themselves against each other. Severus's other hand stroked down her neck, across the middle of her chest, and then over her breast, sending a shock down to her core.

She moaned into his mouth, her hands sliding over his pale skin, memorizing the firmness of his muscles, the roughness of each scar, the softness of the patch of black hair in the centre of his chest.

"Gods, you are so lovely," whispered Severus, his voice thick with passion as he broke their kiss. His lips quickly found her neck, and she curved it sideways to give him greater access. His lips skimmed her throat, past the mark on her collarbone he'd made the night before, and she arched her back as he made her way down her chest.

His fingers were at her back, struggling with the clasp of her bra, and she quickly helped him get her out of it.

"Lovely," he rumbled before taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking it and lathing it with his tongue until she thrummed and whimpered.

"Please, Severus," she gasped, running her fingers briskly over his spine and into his hair.

Severus broke apart from her for a moment, breathing hard as he stared at her.

"Please," she said, taking his hand and placing it over her mound. She could feel the slickness between her lower lips, was sure he could feel it through her underwear. He gave it a soft squeeze, and then picked her up and placed her on the blanket next to him. She lay on her back, catching her bottom lip momentarily with her teeth. His hands gently pulled at her underwear, and she lifted her hips from the floor so he could slide them downwards.

When they were tossed next to their robes, Hermione reached out and hooked two fingers under the elastic of his underwear, giving them a tug. "You too," she said.

Severus blinked, but then got to his feet. Carefully he pulled off his underwear and threw them aside, until he was towering over her in all his nakedness.

Hermione swallowed, allowing herself to take in the sight of him. His chest was crossed with puckered scars, his body thin but firm, his arms and legs sinewy. His penis, an appendage she'd always considered a little gross before, on Severus was somehow sexy as it stuck out hard and pointing towards her. She imagined what it would feel like inside her when they finally made love, and let out a gush of breath.

As Severus stared down at her with dark eyes, she licked her lips.

"Lovely," Severus whispered. Then he lay himself next to her, and she rolled over on her side to face him. She could tell they were both nervous.

Her hands found his chest, and his left hand came up to brush a curl from her face, his Dark Mark a ghostly scar in her peripheral vision. Circling his pale wrist with her fingers, she tilted her head so her lips brushed the head of the serpent. Severus visibly stiffened at her touch, his eyes widening with a flicker of fear.

"Hermione," he croaked.

Hermione smiled and kissed down the faint red tattoo, before placing his hand against her hip. Her fingers trailed up his arm and rested against his neck, and she kissed him deeply before pulling away. They locked eyes, black staring into brown, and brown into black.

"I love you, Severus," she whispered with certainty. Severus drew in a breath and his eyes slid closed, and she worried for a moment that he would pull away at her confession. She scooted herself forward so she was pressed against his body, his hardness pressing against her thigh, her hands on his chest.

His eyes fluttered open then, and the hand on her hip gave her flesh a soft squeeze. He looked at her intensely, and Hermione held her breath.

"I love you," he said. Hermione smiled.

She had intended to go farther, but suddenly felt that this was enough. So she wrapped arms around him, and planted a gentle kiss on his lips, allowing her breath and her desire to still.

For thirty minutes they lay naked, side-by-side, their limbs tangled around each other in knots, silent except for their breath and the messages that passed through the depths of their eyes, the gentle touches of their lips, and the soft smiles that tugged at the corners of their mouths.

It was all Hermione needed for her dreams. She was not complaining.


	24. Chapter 24: Secrets Revealed

**Chapter 24: Secrets Revealed**

Hermione said farewell to Severus on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, still glowing from their time in Firenze's classroom. Both had been reluctant to release the other from their parting embrace, but in the end Severus had kissed her deeply, told her he loved her, and Disapparated with a loud crack.

The first few weeks after Severus left were the hardest. It was amazing to Hermione how close they had become over summer, and she felt a little lost without him by her side each day. Nevertheless, she was determined not to mope around like some love-sick puppy, nor to waste any moment of her final year at Hogwarts.

Studying, thankfully, was a superb way to forget just how much she missed Severus, so she worked harder than ever before, taking on extra projects in Arithmancy, Charms, and Transfiguration so she was busy well into the evenings. There was little else to distract her: Voldemort was dead, Ginny was often busy with Quidditch practice, and for the first time in all her years at Hogwarts she didn't have to do anyone else's homework.

When she found herself alone in her room before bed, however, she remembered how much she missed Severus. She had no idea it was possible, but her body physically ached for him; she could feel it in her arms and her chest, a humming need that wanted him next to her. It wasn't sexual. She wanted his _presence_. Often she imagined him lying next to her as they had on the floor of Firenze's classroom, kissing her gently, running his fingers through her hair; sometimes she'd let her hand wander downwards and imagine him touching her _there_, though she knew that reality would not be for a very long time.

Unfortunately her nightmares too shifted to include more of Severus: often she was trying to save him in the Shrieking Shack, or else Bellatrix was torturing them both, or she was being tortured as Severus was locked behind a door, banging and shouting but unable to reach her. She'd wake up sweating and screaming, and was thankful that as the only returning female from her year in Gryffindor, she had a room to herself. It was a small luxury, and she tried not to remember that had Lavender Brown not been mauled to death on the night of the final battle, she might not be alone.

Severus's frequent letters were always a bright spot in her days. His first had come less than 24 hours after his departure, and expressed that he missed her already and to expect something for her birthday. Ginny had been there when the owl arrived and asked who it was from.

"Neville," she'd lied, finding she wasn't quite ready to reveal her new relationship. It wasn't that she was embarrassed about Severus, but she was worried about how Ginny would react considering not long ago she had been dating Ron. Plus Ginny would pry for details; how exactly was she supposed to explain that just yesterday she was lying naked on a classroom floor with the school's most infamous ex-professor?

She wanted to tell her friends in the right way, at the right time, so she wouldn't end up getting a stern lecture like she had with McGonagal, nor the constant winks like she now received from Slughorn in practically every Potions lesson or Slug Club meeting.

She was relieved when her birthday package arrived just as she was going to bed so she wouldn't have to lie to Ginny again. Severus had given her a rare book of charms from the Middle Ages, a rough, leather-bound volume with hand-written pages she couldn't wait to read, along with an ever-blooming rose that she placed in a conjured vase on her bedside table (if Ginny asked, she'd just say she liked roses and bought it for herself).

Before long, however, it was October and still she hadn't told her friends about the man she was in love with and who she longed to hold and kiss and touch again. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep him a secret, either, especially considering she was supposed to meet him in Hogsmeade in early November during the students' first weekend in the snowy town.

"Have any plans for the Hogsmeade weekend coming up?" asked Ginny one evening in mid-October, flopping down in the chair next to Hermione in the common room.

Hermione looked up from her Arithmancy homework. Ginny was wearing her pink fleece pajamas, having just showered and changed after Quidditch practice.

"Well, I… the thing is…" Hermione stammered.

"Oh my god you have a boyfriend, don't you? I knew it!" Ginny shrieked, leaning closer. "Is it Liam in Ravenclaw? Is that why he was talking to you after lunch the other day?"

"No, it is _not_ Liam," said Hermione tersely. "He just had a question about our Ancient Runes homework."

"Is it Neville? He's been sending you an awful lot of letters," said Ginny.

"No, it is not Neville," replied Hermione.

"Well, who is it?" Ginny's eyes shone brightly with curiosity.

_Well, might as well get this over with._

"You have to promise not to freak out," she said apprehensively.

"Oh, it's not a Slytherin, is it?" asked Ginny with a devilish smile.

"Well, yes he is a Slytherin," said Hermione matter-of-factly. _Ex-Head of House, in fact. _

"Is it Blaise Zabini? I always thought he was hot. He's in your Arithmancy class, isn't he?" asked Ginny, clearly enjoying this conversation and the possibility of Hermione having a new boyfriend.

"No, he's left Hogwarts," said Hermione. _Last year, after being the headmaster. _

"Don't tell me it's Malfoy," said Ginny with a disgusted grimace.

"Ew! No!" shrieked Hermione. "How could you even think that?"

Ginny gave a relieved laugh, then asked, "So who is it then?"

Hermione took a deep breath and leaned close to Ginny. "It's Severus Snape," she said in a whisper.

"Very funny, Hermione. He's old enough to be your dad," said Ginny, rolling her eyes. "Who is it really?"

Hermione frowned and gave Ginny a withering look, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not being funny," she snapped. "I'm honestly seeing Severus Snape."

It took a few moments, apparently, for this reality to sink in, and then Ginny's eyes went wide.

"You're kidding!" she shrieked. "You're dating _Snape_? Like ex-professor, was dead for a bit, used to be a Death Eater but was really loyal to the Order, _Snape_?" Ginny was practically shouting, and Hermione swatted at her friend.

"Shut up, Ginny, the whole room will hear you!" she hissed, looking around to see if anyone had overheard, but the rest of common room was busy in their own conversations.

"Well… well that's…" said Ginny, still gaping at her.

"I should go to bed," said Hermione, and began gathering her things.

"Oh no you don't!" protested Ginny. "You are not getting out of talking about this! If you're going to bed I'm coming with you."

"Fine, come with me then," said Hermione, tucking her quill into her bag and then heaving it onto her shoulder. She headed towards the girls' dormitories, Ginny following behind her. Hermione glanced backwards half-way up the stairs to find her friend didn't seem angry or disgusted; in fact, she looked positively bursting with curiosity as she skipped up the steps with a huge grin plastered on her freckled face.

"So, how did this happen?" Ginny asked as soon as they were in Hermione's room and the door was shut behind them. "I mean, it's not exactly like he's at Hogwarts—and I thought you hated him when he was your professor! He didn't slip you a love potion when he rose from the grave, did he?" She waved her arms over her head and made a face.

"Ginny!" laughed Hermione, throwing a pillow at her. "No, he did not slip me a love potion. And I never _hated_ him, Ginny. It happened over the summer. I—well, he's really quite intelligent and funny and sweet."

"Severus Snape is funny and sweet? Wait until I tell Harry, he's going to die," said Ginny with a laugh.

"Oh, shut up. He is, once you get to know him," said Hermione defensively.

Ginny hopped on Hermione's bed, sitting on her knees and clutching Hermione's thrown pillow in her lap. Hermione sat down next to her.

"Have you kissed him?" Ginny asked suddenly.

"Yes," admitted Hermione, blushing hard.

"Have you done anything else?"

"No!" Hermione shrieked, too shocked at her friend to admit that she and Severus had, in fact, done other things besides kissing, though probably not as much as Ginny suspected. The girl had her eyebrows raised and a disbelieving smirk on her lips. If she hadn't been already holding her pillow, Hermione would have thrown it at her again.

"Have _you _done 'anything else' with Harry?" Hermione teased back, not really serious but eager to change topics away from her and Severus's level of sexual intimacy.

Now Ginny was blushing. "Yes. We had sex before I left for Hogwarts," she admitted.

Hermione gasped. "Ginny! You didn't tell me that!"

"Well you didn't tell me about Snape. It's been what, at least two months?" she said, counting on her fingers. Hermione thought it was best not to tell her friend it was actually more like three, that they'd gotten together the day before Harry's birthday.

"I just thought… well, with Ron, I thought you'd be mad. Or if not mad, then grossed out, or you'd think I was crazy," Hermione admitted bashfully.

"Well, I can't say I don't think you're a bit crazy and he's certainly not my type, but then you also dated my brother," she said, putting her finger into her open mouth and making a retching motion. "As long as he treats you well and you're happy, I'm cool. He does treat you well and make you happy, doesn't he?"

"Of course he does," said Hermione, a wave of relief washing over her: she was not going to get a lecture, nor asked for an invite to her future wedding, and Ginny was still going to be her friend.

"So, let me guess, Neville hasn't been sending you letters?" asked Ginny with a raised eyebrow.

Hermione blushed again. "No. I'm sorry for lying."

"It's okay. I'm sorry for not telling you about Harry," said Ginny. "So, now that I know, tell me _everything_."

Hermione told her about how they had worked together over the summer (she thought it best to leave out the fact she had been secretly speaking to his grave), and had grown close, that she'd been the one to make the first move after realizing he liked her in return.

"McGonagal caught us kissing in the hallway once," said Hermione.

"No!" gasped Ginny, her hand flying over her mouth.

"I thought she was going to give me detention for life. But really, there's not much she can do: we're of age and he's not a teacher anymore. But she said she 'could not approve of our relationship'," said Hermione, doing a stern impression of McGonagal.

"That sounds like something my mother would say," said Ginny with a roll of her eyes.

"Thanks for not reacting that way," said Hermione, smiling. It really was a relief.

"Does anyone else know?" asked Ginny.

"Slughorn and Flitwick found out too by accident, and I think Harry suspects something, but you're the first friend I've really told."

"You should have told me sooner," said Ginny. "Harry too. We're your friends Hermione; you don't have to keep your love life a secret, even if you are dating Severus-bloody-Snape."

Hermione blushed a deeper shade of fuchsia.

"I'm glad you told me now," Ginny continued. "I feel honoured to be the first. Just wait until Ron finds out!"

"He's the one I'm most worried about," admitted Hermione. _He__'__ll probably try to kill Severus_, she thought.

"I wouldn't be too worried," said Ginny thoughtfully. "Harry said he went on a date last week with a witch from the Improper Use of Magic Office."

"Really? That's great!" said Hermione. "I'm glad." And she was. It would be easier with Ron if they'd both moved on, found other partners.

"Yeah, I mean, he won't be happy about it, but at least he won't try to kill anyone," said Ginny with a lopsided grin. "I can't promise he won't still call him a 'greasy git'."

Hermione giggled, shaking her head. "I can't promise Severus won't glare at him and call him a dunderhead," she said, making Ginny laugh.

"So, about Hogsmeade," said Ginny, "I know you probably want to spend the day with Snape—should I call him Severus?—but will you at least come for a drink with Harry and me first?"

"Of course, Ginny," Hermione smiled. "And, yes, you can probably call him Severus—I do." She would owl Harry in the morning to tell him about her and Severus, and she supposed she better tell Severus as well that her friends now knew about their relationship.

"You and Severus. Man, that is going to take some getting used to," said Ginny.

Hermione sighed. "He's really very kind," she defended.

"I know—you said so already. I'll get over it once I see you together, don't worry," said Ginny, smiling. "Now, tell me, is he a good kisser? Or does his nose get in the way?"

"That's it!" shouted Hermione with a laugh, grabbing her pillow back and hitting her friend, who giggled wildly.


	25. Chapter 25: Invitation

A/N: I wanted to give a special thank you to those readers who leave reviews on every chapter. I really appreciate your effort; it really makes continuing to post this worthwhile (not that I am going to stop; no fears there!). Onwards we go!

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><p><strong>Chapter 25: Invitation<strong>

Severus felt like he'd been living in a dream for the past five months.

He never believed he'd be interested in anyone other than Lily. His love for his childhood friend had consumed him and practically his entire life. The thought of having a girlfriend or a lover that wasn't Lily was unthinkable to him for more than 20 years.

And then suddenly there was Hermione. Calling him.

"_Severus, please, come back to me…"_

He loved her. Gods, how he loved her. She'd plucked him out of his turmoil and despair like a twig, twining him into her nest and settling down over his heart. His swallow. His Hermione. His love.

"_I love you, Severus."_

When she'd said those words his heart had swelled. It didn't even matter that they were naked. Her expression of love was beautiful morning birdsong, music that touched his very soul. Truth be told, he'd needed a moment, had to close his eyes to stop himself from bloody _crying_ at those words, they meant so much. And to say them back, and have her accept them, kiss him, hold him next to her… it was like a dream. Except it wasn't a dream. As long as he didn't do something stupid and fuck it up, he never had to wake up; it didn't have to end.

And so he diligently wrote Hermione twice a week, often more. His letters were not verbose—he was not a man to speak words for nothing—but they were heartfelt and he hoped she knew how special she was to him, that he wasn't lying when his spiky scrawl told her he missed her and loved her.

Every time he reached the end of her letters, signed with 'Love,' it was a balm to his soul, a calm to his fears.

Combined with the memories of them together over the summer—talking, laughing, kissing, lying in the classroom on his final morning at Hogwarts—he found he was sated. He longed for the day when they could spend more time together, of course, but he had no complaints other than the distance.

In fact, for the first time in his life, Severus thought that he might actually be happy.

The realization had come to him at the most ordinary of times. He'd been sitting in his office, a few potions bubbling away on the tables across the room, sipping tea and reading a letter that had just arrived from Hermione. Then it hit him, like someone had lifted a Confundus Charm and he could finally think clearly again: he was happy.

There were no dunderheads bothering him; no masters giving him orders; no people to save or Chosen Ones to protect; no debts to repay. Instead he had a woman who loved him in return, a business he enjoyed, time to relax, read books, and experiment in the kitchen. He felt no anger, no fear, no desire, only a deep, satisfying feeling of contentment.

He'd never felt like this before.

It felt incredible. Light. Like he was gliding on a current of warm air. He felt free.

Early in November, he was scheduled to meet Hermione in Hogsmeade. It would be the first time they'd see each other since he'd left Hogwarts.

He spent the first two hours of his morning trying to distract himself from his nerves. He'd nearly botched a Blood-Replenishing Potion (something he could normally do practically with his eyes closed), had burned his toast, and had spilled tea on his robes and had to change.

He was both relieved and even more nervous when it was time to leave.

"Severus!" Hermione jumped on him with a squeal the moment he Apparated into Hogsmeade. He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face into her hair, which smelled of faintly of vanilla and jasmine flowers. It felt so good to hold her again. She felt so right in his arms.

Their reunion was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Severus looked up, and there was Harry Potter with an expression of mixed amusement and discomfort, Ginny Weasley standing next to him with a smile plastered on her pretty freckled face.

"I thought we'd go to The Three Broomsticks first," said Hermione, looking slightly nervous.

Severus nodded, not quite trusting his voice with Hermione still pressed against his chest.

Of course he'd put up with a drink with her friends. He'd teach Potter Occlumency again if it meant he got to see Hermione, though it was certainly not his preferred method of doing so.

"Shall we?" asked Hermione brightly, and Severus nodded once more, allowing her to take his hand and guide him towards the shops.

They walked down the snow-lined streets, following Harry and Ginny to the pub. Severus wasn't sure if people were staring at him or at the others, but decided it didn't matter. If they were staring at him, it was their own problem. _To hell with them. Let them think what they want. _He squared his shoulders and gripped Hermione's hand a little more firmly in his own, glaring at anyone who passed by.

"Just one drink, Severus, and then we can go," Hermione whispered as they entered the warm pub.

They sat down at a table near the back of the room, and he offered to buy drinks.

"Keeping in touch with your old students, I see," said Madame Rosmerta as he approached the bar.

"Three butterbeers and a firewhisky," replied Severus with a scowl.

Heading back to the table with their drinks, he sat across from Hermione. She and Ginny, who was sitting next to her, were whispering to each other and giggling.

"They're talking about us, you know," said Harry, taking a sip from his butterbeer.

Snape raised an eyebrow at him.

"Better to let it happen, trust me," Harry continued, smiling. "So, Hermione tells me you are brewing potions for St. Mungo's now?"

Snape took a delicate sip of his firewhisky, feeling it burn pleasantly down the back of his throat. Was Harry Potter trying to make small talk with him? He looked at Hermione, who was still speaking with Ginny, and occasionally flicking her eyes at him and smiling.

_Bugger it. Small talk then. _

"I am," he said, turning towards Harry, who gave a relieved-looking grin.

"I bet they're thankful to have the help of a wizard like you," said Harry. Severus couldn't help but sneer at Harry's very Gryffindor attempt to compliment him. It was too much.

To avoid strangling the boy, he turned the conversation away from himself. "How are things in the Auror office?" he asked. _There. Talk about your own damn life. Arrogant twit. _

"We finally got a hold of Avery," said Harry. "Took bloody forever to track him down. He was hiding in Essex, pretending to be a Muggle."

Severus raised both eyebrows in surprise. _Avery pretending to be a Muggle? _

Combined with the fact he was making small talk with Harry Potter while the woman he loved sat across the table, the situation was almost unfathomable. But there it was, plainly true.

"How things change," said Severus smoothly.

"They do, don't they?" replied Harry. "It's nice."

"Indeed it is," said Severus, eyes lifting to Hermione as she smiled at him, her brown eyes glittering happily. _Very nice. _

Speaking with Harry wasn't as terrible as Severus expected once the topic of conversation was no longer himself. The boy—well, he supposed he was technically a man now—was polite and surprisingly modest, not at all what he remembered from Hogwarts. They chatted for 15 minutes before he felt Hermione's hand cover his.

"Ready to go?" she asked.

He downed the rest of his firewhisky in one go, forced back a grimace, and nodded.

"Bye Ginny, Harry," said Hermione, giving Harry a hug.

"Bye Hermione," said Ginny. "See you back at school."

"Later, Hermione. Nice to see you, Snape," said Harry.

Severus nodded at Harry and then turned, anxious to spend time alone with Hermione.

Outside of the pub, the air was cold and bright, and Hermione quickly attached herself to his right arm—not that he minded. Actually, it felt rather pleasant. It soothed him to know she wasn't embarrassed to be seen with him in public.

"Where would you like to go?" he asked her.

"Why don't we go on a walk? I don't really feel like shopping," she said, and so they made their way out of Hogsmeade, taking a trail that ran along the outskirts of town.

A few hundred meters down the trail, hidden from the village by a small copse of pine and alder trees, Hermione stopped, tugging on his hand.

"Did you forget something at the pub?" Severus asked, concerned at her halting.

She kissed him so hard he nearly lost his footing.

She pressed her body against his, her hands gripping at the cloth of his thick wool cloak, and he brought his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. She let out a small moan and pushed her tongue into his mouth, forcing her hips into the hardness that was quickly forming in his trousers.

"I've wanted to do that since you arrived," she said breathily as she finally pulled away, her eyes dark and lusty, a blush crawling up her cheeks.

It took all of Severus's willpower not to throw her onto the nearby drift and continue what she started.

"You will hear no complaints from me," he said instead, pleased at how smooth his voice sounded.

Hermione took his hand once more and they continued down the trail. At first, they chatted about Hermione's studies, about the new spells and potions she was learning (he gave her suggestions where he could), and then they fell into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying the company. The only sound as they walked along the narrow path was a few sparrows chirping in the bushes, their boots crunching in the snow.

Severus was thinking about how perfectly Hermione's hand fit into his when Hermione stopped suddenly.

"Oh! It's the Shrieking Shack," she said tentatively.

Snape let go of Hermione's hand and walked towards the building, stopping just in front of the iron fence, memories flooding him. In the soft daylight, covered in snow, it looked run down and harmless. And yet so many terrible things had happened to him there: his near-death by werewolf Remus, his spoiled capture of Sirius, and his attempted murder by Voldemort.

He looked over his shoulder at Hermione to find her eyes full of tears.

"Hermione?" he asked, his own memories instantly replaced with concern for his witch.

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping her eyes. "It's just… the last time I saw you here… I was so certain you were dead. Everything was pouring out of you—red and silver. Oh, Severus," she cried.

Snape pulled her close, wiped the tears from her eyes. "Don't cry," he said, squeezing her tight. "I'm here. I'm not dead."

Hermione sniffled. "I'm sorry, I'm ruining our day together."

Severus pulled back, holding her upper arms and looking sternly into her eyes.

"Nothing you could do would ruin my day; as long as you're next to me I can be nothing but happy," he said truthfully.

Hermione smiled up at him.

"Let's go back, shall we?" he asked, giving her arms squeeze.

"No," said Hermione, shaking her head.

"No?" asked Serverus, eyebrow cocked in question.

"Let's go inside," she said. "I want to—I need to get over this. I don't want to keep crying every time I see something that reminds me of the war."

Nervousness began to build in Severus's gut, like long fingers tickling at his organs, but he nodded his head.

_Yes, perhaps there are things here that I need to get over too._

"I'm not sure we can Apparate inside now that Hogwarts has its full wards back in place. We'll have to take the passage from the Whomping Willow, I guess," said Hermione contemplatively. "There's no way to get in from out here."

"Yes, there is," said Severus, staring at the shack once more. There was a single window around the back of the house, blown open by Voldemort. He'd flown inside before…

"Hold onto me tightly," he said. He felt the squeeze of her arms as she hugged him close, and he wrapped his own limbs around her protectively before casting the spell his dark master had taught him almost two years ago.

"Oh!" Hermione squeaked, as they lifted from the ground. Then they were gliding towards the shack, spinning in slow circles as Severus flew them over the fence, up the hillside, and to the back of the house.

"Warn me next time you are going to do that!" Hermione said as he landed them both securely inside the Shrieking Shack.

"I—I apologize," he said, drawing away from her.

"It's fine. I just… I really hate flying…" she said.

The room was dim even in the morning light, but Severus could tell it was practically unchanged from the last time he was here, lying on the floor, the life seeping out of him in a pool of blood and venom.

"Oh! We're in—this is the room… did you fly in here that night too?" squeaked Hermione, her eyes sweeping over the room, growing wider as she took everything in. Severus nodded.

He looked down. His own blood was beneath his feet, staining the floor. It was dry, but the shape was clear. He took a few steps backwards, feet echoing on the rough wood floors. _There_, _my head; there, where I struggled; and there, where my hands dropped against the floor. _

_I was so close to death. I should have died. Had it not been for Limbo, for my chance… _

He looked up, and there was wetness in his eyes as he stared at Hermione, his love. He was so close to never having her. If he'd chosen the other door. If she'd never found his memories, never come to his grave.

"Severus?" Hermione asked. "Oh Gods, you're crying. I—I'm sorry, I never should have made you come here. It was selfish—I never thought… please forgive me."

Severus shook his head and stepped forward, over where his body once laid, and took Hermione in his arms. She wrapped him in her embrace, giving him a squeeze.

"I am so lucky," he whispered into her hair. "Hermione, I love you."

"I love you, Severus," said Hermione softly into his chest.

"Please stay with me over the Christmas holidays."

It wasn't how he had planned to make the request—he'd meant to ask formally over lunch—and if he'd been in a normal state of mind he would have been angry at himself for blurting it out. But it was his heart talking, and he was learning to listen to the muscle more when it came to Hermione.

She sucked in an audible breath of air, and then she was hugging him so tightly he thought he might snap in two.

"Yes!" she said happily. "I was hoping you would invite me! I didn't want to ask—I wasn't sure if you'd think it was proper. But yes, Severus, yes, I would love to!"

Then she was kissing him again, and he smiled against her lips. Merlin, how he loved this witch and her enthusiasm, her trust and desire for him. He kissed her passionately, his tongue snaking into her mouth, and she pressed herself against him, hands pushing into his hair.

It was then he realized the absurdity of snogging Hermione in the room where he nearly died. He began to laugh, a great rumble that had never escaped before. There were tears in his eyes, but this time they were from humour, and he pulled Hermione into a hug, his body shaking as the laughter rolled out of him.

Hermione looked shocked at first, but then she began laughing too, a beautiful trill that floated through the air.

"Oh my goodness, Severus, let's get out of here!" she said, giggling in his arms.

He could only oblige, and lifted her once more into the air, out the window, and back beyond the fence line.

He was still laughing when their feet touched the snow, and they collapsed into the soft white powder, limbs tangled together.

"I think we have that fear conquered," he said between gasps of breath.

"Gods, do we ever," said Hermione with a grin. "Now to make some more pleasant memories."

She kissed him again, gently at first, and then began sucking on his bottom lip. He growled, pulling her on top of him, his tongue darting out brush against her mouth. She only grinned more widely and threw herself bodily into the kiss, her hands coming into his hair as her breasts pressed into his chest.

_So very pleasant, _thought Severus as his hands trailed down her back to cup her arse._ Christmas can't come soon enough. _


	26. Chapter 26: Summons

A/N: A few of you were quite correct about what Severus and Hermione's public display of their relationship in Hogsmeade might lead to! This and the next chapter are the results of their outing.

Thanks as always for the reviews. I don't often have time to PM everyone in return, but I do read and appreciate each and every one.

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><p><strong>Chapter 26: Summons<strong>

Hermione wished her visit with Severus had gone on for longer, but eventually the sky had darkened, and it was time for her to return to the castle. The only thing that made saying goodbye easier was knowing she would be spending her Christmas holidays with him.

She decided until then, she'd just have to distract herself by studying extra hard. So the next morning after breakfast, she trundled up to the library to start on an essay for Charms. She sat down in her favourite spot, a secluded corner by a mullioned window that overlooked one of the large courtyards.

She had completed six inches of her essay when Ritchie Coote, a sixth year Gryfinndor, came around the end of one of the long bookshelves.

"Hi, Hermione," he said with a nervous smile as he approached her. "McGonagall asked me to tell you she'd like to see you in her office. And she said to tell you to bring a three-coloured cat? She said you'd know what it meant."

"Thanks for telling me," said Hermione, wondering what the headmistress could possibly want with her. Nevertheless, she packed up her things, slung her bag over her shoulder, and made her way up to the headmistress's office.

"Calico," said Hermione to the gargoyle, which jumped immediately aside.

McGonagall was scribbling on a stack of parchment, which she pushed aside as Hermione reached the top of the curving stairs.

"Miss Granger, come, sit down," she said, waving her hand towards one of the red velvet armchairs in front of her desk.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" said Hermione, putting her bag on the floor and taking a seat.

"How are your studies going?" asked McGonagall. "Your professors tell me you have top marks—I would expect nothing less from you, of course."

"Thank you, Professor. They're going well," said Hermione nervously. It wasn't like McGonagall not to get right to the point.

"Have you decided what you'll do after graduation?"

"I'm not sure," said Hermione. "Get a job in the Ministry, I suppose. I'd like to help improve things, make the more fair."

"Well, when the time comes, I'd be happy to give you a reference," said McGonagall.

"Thank you, Professor. That would be wonderful," said Hermione, blushing slightly.

"Now, I'm sure you wondered why I called you up here on a Sunday," said McGonagall. "It seems you made the news again." She picked up a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ from her desk, folding it in half and handing it Hermione, who took it gingerly.

"Bottom of the page," said McGonagall.

Hermione looked down and found the article to which McGonagall was clearly referring. The first thing Hermione noticed was a small picture of her and Severus. She was smiling and draped over his right arm, their fingers twined together as they walked down the street, while Severus glared menacingly at the camera. The title of the article read "Hermione Granger and Severus Snape Together, Go on Date in Hogsmeade," and she quickly scanned the text of the article beneath it.

_Rumours of a relationship between war heroes Hermione Granger and Severus Snape were confirmed true yesterday when the pair were seen in Hogsmeade. _

_The new couple held hands (see photo), and witnesses even report seeing them kiss. _

"_I saw them leave The Three Broomsticks together and they were holding hands, and, you know, looking like couples do," said an anonymous witness. "They seemed to be enjoying each other's company very much."_

_Snape has had no known romantic interests prior to Granger, perhaps making him an easy target for the fame-loving witch,__who previously dated both Harry Potter and Bulgarian seeker Viktor Krum._

_It is unknown if the two heroes are rekindling an illicit relationship begun while Granger was a student of Snape's, or if their romance is more recent. Sources say they may have spent time together at the famous school over the summer while helping with repairs caused during the final battle against the dark wizard Lord Voldemort and his followers. _

_Time will tell if this is another fling destined for a broken-hearted Snape, or if the young witch has finally met her one-and-only._

_Granger is completing her final year at Hogwarts after spending a year on the run with Potter in order to destroy Lord Voldemort, also known as Tom Riddle. _

_Presumed dead until recently, former headmaster of Hogwarts Snape was redeemed thanks to evidence provided by Potter and several other witnesses. His role as a spy against Lord Voldemort was instrumental in ending the Second Wizarding War. _

Hermione looked up at McGonagall, unsure what to say: the article's main premise was true—she was dating Severus and they had been together in Hogsmeade—but was otherwise a typical gossip story she'd had plenty of experience with before. It bothered her that it implied they'd done something immoral while she was Severus's student, but she knew that wasn't true; she thought McGonagall must know that as well. Honestly, Hermione didn't really care who knew about her relationship with Severus as long as they left them alone and didn't send Howlers filled with Bubotuber puss.

"You are still in a relationship with Severus," said McGonagall slowly as Hermione set the paper back on her desk.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione answered with a nod. "I don't see how this—" she started, but the headmistress hushed with a wave of her hand.

"I felt it was important to talk with you privately. I know I have stated my feelings in the past, but I I want to be clear that my reluctance to accept your relationship is not because of the reasons Severus so eloquently stated in summer," said the headmistress. "I was hoping that things might solve themselves once your classes began, but I can see that hasn't happened."

"No, and—"

"Let me finish, please," said McGonagall, interrupting Hermione once more. "I have known Severus far longer than you have. I know he's kinder than he lets on to most, but I am not sure he is capable of the depth of feelings you likely desire. You have been through a lot, I know, and without your parents. My only goal is to protect you from further hurt."

Hermione gasped, feeling not protected but insulted and angry. Severus not capable of loving her? _As if!_

"Professor, may I be frank with you?" she asked, trying to stay calm, though anger burned through her veins. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Of course, Miss Granger," said McGonagall.

"I don't think you know Severus half as well as you think you do," snapped Hermione.

For the briefest of moments, McGonagall looked taken aback, before leaning forward in her chair and taking on a more serious tone.

"Miss Granger—Hermione—you know that Severus was a spy for the Order through both wars. I was his colleague for more than 16 years, both here at the school and as part of the Order. Before that I was his teacher. I am not doubting that Severus cares for you, only that I'm afraid it can only go so far. I am not sure he can give you what you want long-term. There are walls Severus has that cannot so easily be broken."

"You have no idea what you're saying," Hermione said quietly, incensed.

"Miss Granger, I don't mean to be insulting," said McGonagall,

"But you are!" Hermione said, anger burning brightly in her chest and eyes. "You're not only insulting Severus, but you're insulting me!

"If Severus is incapable of true love because of what he did, then I am too!" she concluded flatly.

"Miss Granger, I know you went through a lot—"

"You have no idea what I went through! Nor what Severus did!" said Hermione boldly. "Do you know why? Because we never told you. But he's told me and I've told him. So don't you dare judge us by what you know—you don't know the half of it!"

Hermione stood from her chair, snatching her bag, intending to leave.

_How dare she! I don't need to hear this bollocks, even if she is headmistress! _Hermione wanted to scream at the old witch further, but instead gave a curt not.

"Good day, Professor," she said, turning on her heels.

"Miss Granger, wait!" McGonagall called. Hermione turned her head to see McGonagall standing behind her desk, looking flustered.

"I—I apologize if I've upset you, Hermione," said McGonagall. "Please sit."

Hermione frowned but did as McGonagall asked, returning to the armchair, setting her bag in her lap.

"I apologize for yelling," said Hermione between clenched teeth.

"No need," said McGonagall. "I can see I was out of line. I admit, Hermione, that were you another student, I would not be so concerned. I only said what I did because I care about you."

Hermione's eyes widened at McGonagall's admission, though it didn't change how she felt about her headmistress's words. She kept her mouth shut.

"Albus," called McGonagall, looking up to the old man in his portrait. He peered down over his half-moon spectacles.

"Yes, Minerva?" he asked cordially.

"You knew Severus the best of anyone, will you please explain to Miss Granger why they may not be the best match?"

"I'm afraid I cannot," said Dumbledore with a soft smile. "In this case, I agree with Miss Granger. I think they make an excellent match."

"But Albus!"

"Severus is nothing but loyal. His heart is a good one. His intellect is matched only by Miss Granger's," Dumbledore continued, his eyes crinkling happily. "You've made a wise choice in Severus, Miss Granger, and he in you."

Dumbledore's words felt like a small triumph.

"Thank you, sir, I think so too," said Hermione softly, her heart thudding steadily within her chest.

"Love should be encouraged," said Dumbledore wisely from his frame. "Don't you think so, Minerva?"

Hermione smiled thankfully up at her old headmaster, thinking perhaps he wasn't so bad after all.

"Yes, yes I suppose," said McGonagall, adjusting her robes before turning back to Hermione. "You—you love Severus?" she asked with some discomfort.

"Yes, very much," replied Hermione. McGonagall sighed.

"I see," she said, her expression growing thoughtful. "I was lucky to have someone I loved very much once—oh yes, I was married at one time. He was much older; there was a similar difference in age as with you and Severus, I believe. But my dear Elphinstone was sadly taken from me after only three years of marriage."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Professor," said Hermione, realizing then that any reluctance to support her own relationship likely had less to do with Severus's qualities (or lack thereof) and more to do with McGonagall's own history.

Hermione looked up at her headmistress, shifting in her seat. "Do you regret those three years?" she asked.

"How could I regret them? They were the happiest three years of my life," said McGonagall wistfully.

"Then please don't deny me my own happiest days," pleaded Hermione, her hand over her heart. "Severus and I, I hope, will have much longer than three years together. But even if it ends up being only three years, or even two, it will still be worth it. He's very special to me, Professor."

"And you believe Severus feels the same way?"

"You can ask him," Hermione said, "but I know he'd say he does."

The headmistress slumped back in her chair and took off her glasses, wiping her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Very well," she said with some resignation, "you have my blessing."

"Thank you, Professor. That means a lot to us," said Hermione with a smile.

McGonagall sat up, setting her glasses back on her nose, and Hermione fidgeted with the strap of her school bag under her headmistress's suddenly piercing gaze.

"I suppose I was wrong, thinking I could dissuade you. I should have known, I suppose: you are, after all, a Gryffindor," said McGonagall, a smile gracing her thin lips. "I would like to apologize for insulting you and Severus. Will you forgive me?"

"Of course, Professor," said Hermione, smiling in return. She meant it, feeling she understood her headmistress better than ever before.

The old witch sighed, looking happy once more. "In any case, I mean what I said earlier about providing a reference. And if you ever grow tired of the Ministry, I would be happy to make a place for you here among the teaching staff."

"Oh! Thank you, Professor," said Hermione, noticing Dumbledore nodding his approval from his frame. She never expected to be offered a job, was not even sure she wanted to be a teacher; but she didn't want to insult McGonagall, and thought it wouldn't hurt to do a little research before dismissing the idea outright. "I'll consider it," she said, mind beginning to churn with possibilities.

"Please do," said McGonagall, pulling the stack of parchments back towards her as a clear sign of dismissal, "and let me know if you need help with anything else."

"I will," said Hermione truthfully, standing and gathering her bag.

She was almost to the stairs when McGonagall spoke once more: "Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Professor?" asked Hermione, turning to look at her old Head of House curiously.

"I'm proud of you," said McGonagall, smiling. "I expect to see great things from you in the future."

"Thank you, Professor," said Hermione with a blush, and then she walked down the spiral stairs and back to the library, feeling she very much needed to write Severus a letter.


	27. Chapter 27: Serpent Calls

**Chapter 27: Serpent Calls**

Severus was brewing in his office when he heard a knock at his front door. He scowled, finishing his last anticlockwise stir, and cast a Stasis Charm over the cauldron. There was another knock as he made his way down to the ground floor, wondering who would be calling on him on a Sunday morning; he did not receive visitors.

Hand on his wand, he pulled open the door, revealing none other than Lucius Malfoy. He looked healthier than he had at the end of the war, but also much older, his blonde hair mostly silver and his eyes deeply wrinkled.

"Lucius," Severus greeted the wizard on his front step. His voice was smooth, his face passive, though inside he was running through the possibilities of what could make the wizard show up at his home: he'd not seen his old house-mate since the end of the war.

"Severus, my friend, it's been too long," said Lucius, gliding past the younger Slytherin into the house. "You redecorated, I see."

"It was time for a change," said Severus, scowling at the Death Eater who was now sizing up his sitting room as he dropped his Occlumency shields more firmly in place.

"Did you read today's _Daily Prophet_?" asked Lucius, settling himself in a chocolate brown leather armchair in the corner of the room after giving it an appraising glance.

"I'm afraid I don't get around to reading it much these days," drawled Severus, remaining standing.

"Narcissa and I thought you might not," said Lucius smugly. "There is something in this morning's edition we believe might interest you, and I thought it was a good excuse to see an old friend. You've been avoiding us, Severus."

"How could I avoid you, Lucius?" asked Severus in mock hurt (though he'd honestly appreciate an answer to the question; he'd been putting off seeing the man ever since returning to his home in September, though he hoped one day he might see Draco without his parents). "Only I've been very busy setting up a new business, and, as you noticed, redecorating. I barely have time for myself."

Lucius nodded, only his grey eyes acknowledging Severus's lie, and pulled a rolled-up paper from his cloak and handing it across to Severus. "Page 4," he said.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Severus flipped to the page Lucius indicated and discovered a photo of him and Hermione in Hogsmeade alongside an article, which he read swiftly. It was a load of garbage, of course, though not entirely inaccurate.

"Tell me now and I will ensure there is a retraction in tomorrow's edition," said Lucius, sounding as if he was offering a grand favour.

"That will not be necessary," said Severus cooly, passing the paper back to Lucius, who set it on the table beside him. "The premise of the article is sound. Though the supposition that the relationship began while she was my student is absurd."

Lucius raised his eyebrows. "You and Hermione Granger? Certainly it can't be true."

"And why could it not be true?" asked Severus, narrowing his eyes.

"I see," drawled Lucius with a calculating stare. "How interesting. Well, I suppose you did always have a thing for Mudbloods."

'Mudblood' had barely left the blonde wizard's lips when Severus had his wand to his throat, forcing Lucius back in his chair. "Call her that again," he growled, pressing his wand into the soft flesh above Lucius's Adam's apple.

"Now, now, Severus, there's no need to get hostile," said Lucius roughly, his eyes wide and fearful. "I am only attempting to protect your reputation."

"Perhaps you forget who won the war," spat Severus, stepping backwards but keeping his wand in his hand.

"I remember, thank you," said Lucius, regaining his posture and brushing off his robes. "It doesn't mean I agree with you fucking the witch."

"We are not fucking," growled Severus. He didn't think they would ever fuck the way Lucius meant it, even after they made love.

"Don't tell me you actually care for the girl?" said Lucius, chuckling softly.

"And if I do?" asked Severus with a scowl. Lucius's laugh quickly halted under Severus's harsh gaze, his face going taught.

"How did this happen?" asked Lucius.

"That is none of your business," said Severus. "Nor do I require your assistance with my reputation."

"Severus, you act as though we're not friends," Lucius simpered. "Let me help you. You know I have connections. A few strings and you can leave this ramshackle house and have the arm of a fine witch from a respectable family."

"The last time I let you help me I ended up with this," spat Severus in a bubble of anger, and he ripped back his sleeve, exposing the Dark Mark forever emblazoned into the flesh of his left arm. He backed up several paces, locking down his expression once more, before stopping and speaking again, his voice now smooth. "I'm afraid we have very different ideas of what respectable means, and what makes a fine witch—though I dare say you lucked out with Narcissa, entirely by her effort, I'm sure."

Lucius frowned, his blue eyes flashing. "I see I will not be changing your mind," he said disdainfully.

"You will not," said Severus, tucking his wand back into his robe.

"You really were Dumbledore's man the whole time, weren't you?" asked Lucius.

"Most of it, yes," confirmed Severus, his face passive. "Your son has certainly seen the benefit of my decisions."

"Yes, yes, I suppose I must thank you for that," said Lucius, his fingers tightening around the end of his cane.

Severus dipped his head. "Let us hope that Draco is able to find his place in the new world," he said silkily. _May he make better decisions than you._

"Oh, he will I'm sure," said Lucius, his voice not without a touch of venom. "And when should I tell him to expect an invitation to your wedding?"

"Oh, I do not plan to rush these things," said Severus, his eyes revealing nothing, though he silently wished he could simply hex the man out of his sitting room. "But I assure you, one day, the invitation will come."

"We look forward to it," said Lucius.

Severus cocked an eyebrow. "Do you now? And here I thought you might not want to be seen at such a humble gathering."

"Ah, but as you said, times have changed, have they not?" said Lucius graciously, his grey eyes cold.

"Indeed, they certainly have," said Severus, allowing a soft smirk to grace his lips.

"Well, I suppose I should be going," Lucius said, rising proudly from his chair. "Narcissa insists I invite you to dine with us soon."

"I'm afraid my schedule is quite full until the end of the year," said Severus. "I'm sure you understand."

"Certainly," said Lucius with a nod. "I will give your regrets to Narcissa."

"Please do," said Severus, guiding Lucius back to the door, opening it to let him out. The wizard's navy robes swished impressively around his feet as he strode towards the exit.

"A pleasure to see you, Lucius," said Severus. _Please don__'__t come back, you smug bastard._

"You as well, Severus," said Lucius with a tip of his head. "Good day."

Severus closed the door with a soft click, cast a set of stronger wards, and allowed his face to fall into a deep frown as he sighed. He took a moment in front of the door to settle himself before making his way back upstairs, mulling over his conversation with Lucius.

Had maintaining his Occlumency shields always taken so much effort? He was admittedly out of practice, yet for some reason he couldn't seem to make himself believe that was a bad thing. He found it rather comforting not to have to hide every thought and feeling behind multiple layers of mental and verbal shields. It was all Hermione's doing, of course.

At least he was not so out of practice that Lucius had won that little spat. The wizard would have understood the meaning behind his words: 'I'm busy with Hermione, so kindly bugger off and take your pureblooded idiocy with you.'

Back in his office, he rubbed his temples, wondering if Hermione was being similarly badgered at school. He pondered sending her an owl in warning, and decided he should; he couldn't remember if she still read _The Daily Prophet_ now that she was up to her elbows in homework and extra credit projects. Grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill from the desk, he scribbled a short note.

"Solomon," he called, and his barn owl flew over from its perch in the corner behind his desk. He'd bought the bird a month previously to help him deliver orders and letters to and from Hermione. With dark eyes set into a white heart-shaped face, Severus thought Solomon looked wise, though his real intelligence was questionable. He was more than adequate at delivering post, however.

"Please give this to Hermione," he instructed, tying the letter to the owl's leg. Then he went to the window, creaking it open into the damp air, and Solomon flew past him on soundless wings.

He watched the bird disappear into the clouds, hoping that his letter would find Hermione well, and he wondered if she would question being with him once the whispers started in the hallways, the insults started flying. Would she still want to be with him once her schoolmates began making fun of her for dating the 'greasy dungeon bat'?

Closing the window slightly harder than he needed to, he went back to his cauldron, removing the Stasis Charm. He dropped several fire lizard corns into his mortar, bashing them into a fine powder with deft circles of his wrist. Dropping the powder into the cauldron, he picked up his stirring rod, anger bubbling in his gut at the same time as the brew turned a fiery orange. With a howl of rage, he threw the rod against the wall, causing it to clatter on the floor. He gritted his teeth, pushing his thoughts away, and summoned the battered implement back to his hand, dipping in into the simmering liquid and beginning to stir with smooth, even strokes.

* * *

><p>Hermione's reply came late the next day, by which time Severus had convinced himself that her letter contained a scathing reply, telling him he was far too much trouble and to never speak with her again. He steeled himself against her words as he tugged opened the twine and unrolled the parchment, revealing her neat handwriting. As usual, her letter was quite long.<p>

_Dear Severus,_

_Funny you should write to me about the article: I was planning to write you about it too. Professor McGonagall summoned me to her office to inform me about it and also tried to dissuade me from seeing you again. I'm afraid I yelled at her, but in the end I was able to make her see how much we love each other, and she decided to accept our relationship.__ Even though she is no longer my teacher or Head of House, it will still make these last months at school much easier, so I'm glad. Professor Dumbledore's was also asked to provide his opinion, and he believes we are good match!_

_After our discussion, Professor McGonagall offered me a reference AND a teaching position! I was shocked. I mean, I haven't even finished my NEWTs yet. What if I fail them all? _(Severus chuckled at her continued insecurity: there was no possible way Hermione would get anything less than a string of Outstandings)._ I am not sure I will accept her offer, but it's another option to consider. You were a professor—what do you think? What's it like?_

_Did you know Professor McGonagall was married once? Apparently her husband was much older than her, and died after only three years. She didn't say so, but I think that might have been why she was reluctant to see us together._

_But back to the article: please do not worry or take what anyone else might say to heart. I know you have likely been fretting all day, but believe me when I say nothing anyone can say or do will change my mind or my heart when it comes to you. You might not remember, but I've dealt with articles like this before (in fourth year), and eventually people move onto the next bit of gossip (hopefully without sending either of us Howlers or poisons—do be careful, love). Honestly, I don't care what people say about us. They don't even know us! Our close friends have only given us support. _(Severus's eyebrows raised at her reference to '_our_ friends').

_Speaking of friends, it was so nice seeing you and Harry talking on Saturday. Thank you for being kind to him. His opinion of you has changed a lot, and I think you might change your mind about him too if you give him a chance. I know he'd love to hear more about his mother, if you ever feel like sharing more of your memories of her with him._

_I think of you often, and am waiting impatiently for Christmas holidays so I can see you (and kiss you) again. _

_Yours always, with love,_

_Hermione _

_xoxoxo_

Severus sighed, a tsunami of relief crashing over him. He tossed Solomon a treat, relaxing back into his chair. The bird hooted softly at him in thanks, floating back to his perch.

Hermione still wanted him. Only moments ago, he was convinced it was not possible. Yet there it was, written by her quill clearly before him in four simple words: "Yours always, with love." He wished he could run to the castle and feel her resolve through her lips, but the letter would have to do for now.

It also seemed that in her brilliance, Hermione managed to get Minerva on their side (though it sounded as though Dumbledore may have played a part). That was no small feat, he knew: the old woman was frustratingly stubborn, especially when she believed she was right. What misery she'd caused him during his tenure as headmaster! Not that he could blame her: his role, after all, was to make everyone believe he was a right bastard loyal to the Dark Lord. Before he'd killed Dumbledore, though, they had a congenial relationship of sorts; they weren't exactly friends, but they were cordial and held a mutual respect. Perhaps there was some sort of friendship to be had now that he was no longer her colleague. Maybe he would send her a letter.

He remembered when her husband died. Severus had just started teaching at Hogwarts at the time. He never talked to the older witch about it (he didn't talk to any of the staff besides Dumbledore in those days), but he did understand her grief, why she walked around the halls like a ghost, eyes listless and staring as if the world would never be the same again: at the time he spent most of the hours outside of his classroom locked in his personal quarters grieving similarly over Lily.

It was another reminder of just how much things had changed. At that time he thought the his whole world had ended; now he was standing in his very own office, content with his life, preparing for a holiday with the woman he loved, and contemplating the possibilities of friendship.

_Hermione and friends. A good job and a free life. How could I be so lucky?_

Severus rolled up Hermione's letter and put it in the desk drawer where he kept all the correspondence she'd sent him since September first (the drawer was now quite full, and soon would need further extension). He'd read it over a few times and send a reply in the morning.

After padding down the stairs and into his bedroom, he fell onto his bed without bothering to take off his robes. He wished Hermione was next to him. He'd pull her close, kiss the top of her head, and tell her that he loved her.

He imagined sending Draco an invitation to his wedding, and grinned to himself. What a reaction he would get from Lucius! It would serve him right for insulting her. _Bloody fool._

It was too soon to be thinking about such things, of course. But one day, perhaps, he would ask Hermione to be his wife.

_Wouldn't it be wonderful, wouldn't I be lucky, if she said yes?_


End file.
